


Ben Barnes Character Fics

by Obscurilicious



Category: ben barnes - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-05-31 12:21:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obscurilicious/pseuds/Obscurilicious
Summary: One shots with characters played by Ben Barnes.





	1. Love Bites

You were walking through town to work after your errand and rest break. It was Friday and you stayed open until 11:00 for open mic at your coffee house. Your hours were Monday thru Thursday were 7am-7pm, so with staying open four extra hours on Friday and Saturday nights, you had extra help Friday night and all day Saturday. However, your help were students and they didn’t get there until Friday afternoon, so until then, you were on your own. Thus, you came up with the idea to close for a few hours on Friday afternoon.

You lived in one of those small towns where everyone knew each other and at times it was amazing and others, not so much. You had gone to college long enough to get an Associate Degree in Accounting so that you could do your own books, but you had always wanted to open your own coffee house and bakery.

The great part of small town living is that you were too small for Starbucks or some other coffee chain to come in, and adding the later hours on Friday and Saturday for open mic and live music gave people somewhere to go that wasn’t a bar and was more laid back.

Saturday afternoon was Game Day. Board games, D&D, euchre tournaments, MTG or Pokemon, miniature war games – one or all was probably being played at Love Bites on Saturday. Saturday night was back to music until midnight.

Sunday you collapsed.

The concept of your bakery, which had come first, was small bite sized baked goods rather than a giant hunk of chocolate cake or cookies big enough to choke a rhino, and the idea for Love Bites had been born. With a small business loan and really reasonable rent from an old restaurant that had been shuttered for almost a decade, your dream had come true with a lot of hard work and not a whole lot of sleep.

You baked and decorated everything to be bite sized and had them in a case to be purchased individually or in group special prices. You had also purchased a really good coffee machine. You tried to have a few vegan and gluten free options available every day and kept non-dairy milk on hand.

All in all, it had come together just as you had envisioned and the people of your town loved it. High school kids came by after school, sometime do their homework with the free WiFi, others just to hang with friends and gossip. You had a crowd of regulars for almost every time slot and you were so proud of what you had built.

Which was why what happened on a pretty typical not-quite-Spring afternoon on your way back to work was so unusual: there was someone playing guitar across the street and up the block from your shop in a pocket park and there were a few people standing around listening.

On impulse, you joined the crowd and soon found yourself tapping your toes to some really great guitar playing and soulful singing. You couldn’t really see him; he was wearing a hat and the brim was hiding his face. He had his guitar case open for tips and you felt bad that you never carried cash. Everyone took plastic these days!

After he finished, you applauded enthusiastically and for some reason felt the need to apologize for not carrying cash. After the crowd moved away, you stuck around to talk to him.

“Hi!” you said, too loud. You were not the greatest at meeting new people, yet another reason opening your cafe in the town where you had grown up was nice: not a lot of strangers.

He looked up and you were nervous for a whole new reason; the man was utterly gorgeous. “Hello,” he said quietly, getting to his feet and offering his hand. “I’m Ryan.”

You just looked at him for a moment, not comprehending his gesture for a moment, then grasping his hand and shaking it jerkily. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

“I wanted to apologize for not carrying cash,” you blurted, still shaking his hand. “But you’re really good, I enjoyed your song.”

He stilled your hand by placing his other hand on your joined hands and sandwiching your hand between both of his. “No problem. I’m just glad you stopped to say hi.”

“You should come to my place, Love Bites!” you said quickly.

“Beg pardon? Did you invite me to your place for love bites?” he asked with a confused expression.

You scrunched your face up in embarrassment. “I’m such a dweeb when I meet new people, sorry!” you said, pulling your hand back. “I own a coffee house and bakery called Love Bites. We have open mic on Fridays and I would love it if you wanted to come.”

“I’d like that,” he said with a smile. “And I don’t think you’re a dweeb at all.”

You smiled. “Thanks, but years of shyness tells a different tale. So…I’m just up the way if you wanna stop by later.”

“I just might,” he said quietly, still smiling at you.

You smiled back and the two of you just stood there looking at each other for a while until you realized you were staring again.

“Hope to see you later,” you whispered, meaning it more than you ever had before.

“Got a feeling you will,” he answered you, eyes scrunching with his smile and practically making you swoon.

You walked away, looking back a little ways up the street and seeing Ryan watching you and giving him a wave. He waved back, smiling happily.

* * *

_Wow_ , Ryan thought. He was still smiling and watching you, then shook himself and put away his guitar and grabbed his bag, heading over to his buddy’s Grandma’s house. She had told him he could stay with her whenever he was in town and he was always glad to help her around the house for a few days.

Myrna opened the door and immediately pulled Ryan into a big hug.

“Hey, Myrna, great to see you!”

“Ryan, I was just thinking about you and how you never come to see me!” she scolded him good-naturedly.

“Well, here I am,” he said with a laugh and a squeeze.

“Well, I hope you can stay for a few days at least.”

“I plan to,” he said with a smile. “So you just think up what chores you need done and make me a Ryan do list, OK?”

“Well the first thing I want you to do is go put your bag away while I make you a sandwich!” she said, scooting him along like the mother hen she was. “Then you can sit down and tell me where you’ve been and what your plans are.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said. “Do I have time for a quick shower?”

“Sure thing.”

* * *

Ryan put his things in the spare bedroom that Myrna kept for when his buddy Paul or he came to visit, then grabbed his last clean clothes and took a quick shower, taking his dirty clothes downstairs with him to do a load of laundry.

After he started the load, he sat down at the table with Myrna and caught up while he ate. After he was up to speed with her senior center gossip and he had told her where he had been, Ryan got a little red in the cheeks trying to approach the topic of you.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “I was wondering if you knew a girl named Y/N who owns a coffee shop?”

“I know everyone in this town,” she informed him. “And I know Y/N. Why do you ask?” She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

If possible, Ryan flushed more. “I met her this afternoon while I was playing my guitar. She told me that there’s open mic at her place on Fridays and said I should come by. She seemed real nice.”

“Well, I think you should go! You have such a nice voice,” she said coyly.

“Thanks, Myrna. So you know her, huh?” he tried again.

“Yes, she was in a few of my classes. Nice, smart girl.”

“Does she have a boyfriend or husband or anything, Myrna?” he finally asked directly.

“Oh, is that what you meant?” she asked with a grin.

“Yes, ma'am, that’s what I meant,” he said, shaking his head at her orneriness.

“As far as I know, she spends almost all her time at that cafe. She’s worked really hard to get it going and she works every day but Sunday,” she informed him. “You going to play tonight?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Want some company?” she asked, knowing how shy Ryan could be.

He smiled. “That would be great!”

“I should have gotten my hair done. Haven’t had a date as handsome as you in a long time,” she said with a wink. “I better go get ready.”

* * *

It was close to six when Ryan held open the door for Myrna and, seeing a ‘seat yourself’ sign, led her to an empty table.

Ryan looked around and didn’t see you. Hadn’t you said you would be here?

“She’s coming out of the back,” Myrna stage whispered.

Ryan looked and couldn’t help the smile that appeared, making Myrna chuckle.

“After that disaster with Jackie I didn’t think I’d ever see that look on your face again,” she said quietly but happily.

“There’s not a look on my face,” he said grumpily, schooling his features.

“Mrs. Hostetter!” you called out, making your way to the table and leaning over to give her a hug. “You haven’t been in here for ages, I was beginning to think you didn’t like me anymore!”

“Don’t be a goose,” Myrna scolded. “And how many times have I told you to call me by my first name? You’re not in my class anymore.”

“Yes, ma'am,” you said with a smile. “Who do you have – Oh! Hi, Ryan!”

_You remembered his name!_ “Hi, Y/N,” he said to show that he remembered yours, too.

“I hope you’re planning to play tonight?” you asked, excited.

“Oh, no, I didn’t bring my guitar,” he said with a smile. “We’re just here to enjoy ourselves.”

“Oh, no! I was hoping to hear you again,” you said, visibly disappointed.

“Really?” he said, surprised.

“Maybe you should sit down with us and talk to him instead,” Myrna suggested.

“OK but let me bring you some drinks. Myrna, Chai?” you asked, turning to Ryan when she nodded. “What can I bring you?”

Ryan started and said, “Oh, I dunno. Coffee?”

You chuckled and said, “Do you like sweet things?”

“Seems like I do,” he said with a smile.

“OK I’ll make you something special, but if you don’t like it, promise to tell me, OK?”

“I will,” he said, blushing that his attempt to flirt went either unnoticed or unwanted.

“Too subtle,” Myrna informed him. “She’s shy.”

“Didn’t seem that way,” he answered, a little frown marring his handsome features.

“You’re confusing customer service with being outgoing. Wait til she sits down.”

You reappeared a few minutes later carrying a tray with three drinks and a plate of bite sized sweets from the case.

Myrna took a sip of her drink and sighed with her eyes closed. “Bliss. Why don’t I come in here more often?” she asked rhetorically.

“Beats me. I ask you every time I see you,” you answered, setting the drink you made for Ryan in front of him.

He smiled at you and took a tiny sip both to test the temperature and taste the brew. He smiled happily. It was smooth but definitely coffee, not super sweet and with a hint of chocolate and cinnamon. “This is amazing!”

You smiled happily. “Yay! I’m like the ice cream guys from City Slickers,” you said with an eyeroll, obviously joking. “Dunno what to order? I will make the perfect drink.”

“Well, I dunno if you can always do it, but this is perfect, thanks,” he said sincerely.

“I’m glad you like it,” you said softly, and the two of you stared with dopey smiles again like earlier.

Myrna cleared her throat.

You shook yourself out of your stupor and looked at Myrna, who had a little smile on her face as she sipped her tea. “Have a love bite?” you said, offering the plate to Ryan.

He laughed and blushed a bit, choosing a tiny lemon meringue pie bite. “Not gonna live that down soon, am I?”

“Nope,” you said, popping a petit four into your mouth.

“Sounds like I missed something,” Myrna said.

“I invited him here and he thought I was propositioning him,” you said with a giggle.

“It sounded like you invited me to your place for love bites. Who am I to turn down a pretty girl like her?” he said, looking at Myrna as if to say, _Direct enough?_

You looked down, a little self-conscious but definitely flattered.

“Thank you,” you said, not thinking quickly enough to flirt back and just going with appreciation. “I wish you had brought your guitar.”

“Maybe next time,” he said softly.

Your face lit up. “Now you have to come see me again. I have a witness,” you said with a wink. You took a sip of your coffee and then noticed Ashleigh waving at you from behind the counter. “Alas, work calls. Let me know if I can get you refills.”

“Will do,” he said softly.

“Well. That was interesting,” Myrna said.

“She’s interesting,” he replied, still watching you as you dealt with whatever calamity had arisen. “How is she not married or taken?”

“Look around. She’s here all the time.”

“Girl like that could get a man addicted to coffee.”

* * *

At about 8:30, Myrna announced that she was ready to go. Ryan helped her stand and led her over to where you were talking to another table of patrons.

“Are you going?” you asked, sounding disappointed.

“These old bones are ready for bed,” Myrna said with a smile.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get back over to you. I was hoping you’d stick around.”

“You’re busy,” Myrna said. “That’s a good thing. I’ll stop by some afternoon and we can have a nice chat.”

“That would be great! I’ve been wanting to talk to you about starting a book club,” you answered with a smile, then looked over to Ryan. “Sorry we didn’t get to talk more.”

Ryan smiled warmly. “Maybe next time I’ll come around when you aren’t so busy.”

“Please do, and bring your guitar. Your music was wonderful,” you said sincerely, dopey smile in place.

“Thank you. Your coffee and treats were great.”

Myrna watched the two of you staring at each other again and said, “Mercy, we’ll be here all night with you two grinning like loons. She’s got work to do, Ryan!”

“It was really nice to meet you,” you said quickly.

“You, too!” he said as Myrna pulled him out the door.

* * *

“Come on, then,” Myrna scolded as she headed home.

“What’s your hurry?” he grumped.

“She’s only open til 11. You need to walk me home, get your guitar and go back.”

“Whoa, I’m not going back there tonight!” he protested.

“I’ve never seen two sillier children in all my days,” she muttered. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off her all evening.”

He ducked his head in embarrassment. “She’s…she glows,” he finally said, words failing him.

Myrna nodded, understanding. “She has the kindest soul. Even in high school, she was nice to everyone, and everyone was nice to her. You hear about kids that are friends with everyone, but she really was. Helped tutor kids who didn’t get it, smart as could be, volunteered; she’s just a nice kid.”

“Anyways, I probably shouldn’t have gone there tonight,” he said dejectedly.

“Whyever not?” she asked as she climbed the porch stairs and unlocked the front door.

“I doubt I’m her type.”

“She invited you there to play guitar. I didn’t hear a marriage proposal,” she scoffed. “Go back and play guitar. It’ll make both of you happy.”

Ryan thought about it and decided to go. _Didn’t take much convincing at all, Ryan,_ he thought to himself.

He dragged his feet a bit when he was almost back to Love Bites. _What if she thinks it’s creepy that I came back?_ He was already a drifter, did he need you thinking he was a stalker to boot?

A group left the cafe and he approached, looking through the window to see that a few other tables had cleared out, too. He took a deep breath and and opened the door, stepping in and looking around.

“You came back,” he heard from his left. He turned and saw you with a tray of dirty dishes. “I’m so glad you came back.”

He smiled. “Me, too.”

* * *

He played until you closed. You got to listen a lot and brought him water and more of the coffee you had made him earlier, sitting down at a table with him while he took a little break.

You had a surprisingly easy rapport for two shy people. It was a total cliche but it felt like you had known each other for years rather than hours. He actually stayed and helped you close up, then walked you home, and the whole time you were talking like old friends.

He came back the next afternoon during a bit of a lull in business, so you were able to sit down and talk with him again. There were fewer gaps with goofy grins but the sentiment behind the dopey interludes was still blooming.

You liked Ryan, a lot. You doubted anything romantic would come of it, despite a serious case of butterflies whenever you looked at him. But you had gained a new friend, and a person could never have too many friends, right?

He was smart and interesting as well as handsome and talented. You could listen to his slightly Southern accented voice for hours as he told you about places he had been and things he had seen. He seemed just as interested in hearing about your life as you were in his, too. Usually when someone had lived as adventurous a life as he had a life like yours would seem dull, but he was as intrigued by your slow, normal days as you were by his fast, extraordinary life.

* * *

Ryan liked you. If he was honest with himself, he would have to say that he really liked you. You were a little shy at first, but once he cracked the surface you were a charmer, and you liked to tease. You worked hard to make your business a success, but it truly seemed to bring you happiness to make a go of it.

And your customers loved you. Ryan had been to coffee chains here and there if nothing else was open. He was more likely to make a cup of coffee over a fire to save money, but if it was cold enough you would buy a cup and sit in the warmth for a bit.

Your shop was as warm and homey as the chains were aloof and uncomfortable. Whereas they wanted you to drink your drink and hit the road, you went from table to table and asked about families and neighbors, holiday plans, travel plans – you were genuinely interested in everyone’s lives.

“So how did you come up with the idea for your place?” he asked later that afternoon.

“I was at a bridal shower and they had petit fours and I always loved them because adorable, bite sized and delicious and thought, Love Bites!” you explained, waving your hands and grinning. “And then I thought how often I have to go back and forth between more than one delicious looking dessert and then the terrible anguish of wondering if I made the right decision.”

Ryan was laughing at your animated telling of the tale.

“So I thought, ‘I can save others from this torture! I will open a coffee shop and make tiny desserts so no one else has to suffer dessert envy.”

“You’re saving the world,” he said.

“Right?” you joked. The front door opened and one of the girls from last night came in. You gave his hand a squeeze and said, “Be right back.”

He got butterflies when you touched him.

* * *

“Hey, Ash.”

“Hey,” Ashleigh replied, throwing a look over the counter. “I see your handsome guitar player is back.”

You smiled shyly and went over what you wanted her to do in preparation for the evening rush. “Sorry, I’ve been pretty lazy this afternoon.”

“Honey, you never take any time for yourself. Go out to dinner with him. I’ve got this.”

“Oh! I guess I could see if he wants to…”

“He will,” she said, giving you a little push.

You made eye contact with him and smiled. You walked over to him, his smile growing as you got closer. “Hey,” you breathed as you reached his table.

“Hey,” he answered, standing when you didn’t sit. “Do you need me to go?”

“Yes.”

His smile dropped.

“No! I mean, would you want to go to dinner with me?” you babbled awkwardly.

“Oh! Yeah, yes. Now?”

“If you want? I like to be back before it gets too busy,” you said with a smile.

“Yeah, let’s.”

“OK, let me grab my jacket,” you said happily.

* * *

This became a pattern when Ryan was in town, and he was in town a lot more than he had ever been in the past. He would visit you during the down times at the cafe, sometimes pitching in and helping during busy times.

He seemed to be in town more during the week than on weekends lately, spending the evening with you after the shop closed. You had become really good friends, but neither of you had acted on the feelings that you both had but also both lacked the courage to express; Ryan because what could a drifter like him offer a girl like you, and you because what could a boring girl like you offer an explorer like him?

So your friendship stayed platonic even though you both wanted more.

* * *

Myrna had started the book club you had discussed and it met every Wednesday evening. It meant staying open an hour later one day a week but it was actually great for business, and Myrna was a wonderful book club leader. She chose books that appealed to different people and so the club was a motley crew of members; for Jane Austen, it might be mostly women, but for Tom Clancy it would be a mixture. It made it nice for married couples to take turns attending and watching the kids, too.

One night after the club met, she didn’t clear out with the rest of the members like she usually did. You went over to see if everything was alright.

“You OK, Myrna?” You had finally become sort of comfortable calling her by her first name.

“I’m fine. It’s Ryan I worry about.”

You sat down in a chair hard; it was sheer luck a chair had been where you collapsed, honestly. “Did something happen to Ryan?” you whispered in fear.

“No,” she said sternly, “but your reaction tells me that something should happen to him the next time he visits.”

You were awash in relief and confusion, and so you answered with an eloquent, “Huh?”

“That boy is crazy about you, and you’re obviously crazy right back at him.”

You looked down quickly. “Ryan has been all over, seen every corner of the country. Why would he want me?”

She chuckled. “His response was, 'I’m a vagabond, a transient. Why would she want me?’”

“He has a point, though not the one he thinks he does.”

“What do you mean?”

You smiled sadly. “One of my favorite movies is ‘Ever After.’ I don’t know if the quote is original to the movie, but I remember Danielle saying, 'A fish may love a bird, but where would they live?’ He even has a bird tattooed on his arm, Myrna, and birds fly. He has to be free to fly away. This fish can only watch him fly away and wonder if he’ll ever come back.” You shook your head. “Some things just aren’t meant to be.” With that you got up and went to the bathroom to cry and then pull yourself together to close up with Ashleigh.

* * *

Myrna watched you hurry to the bathroom, knowing that you were going to cry. She decided to leave you for the time being; she didn’t have an answer for you anyway.

She walked home, pondering your words. Ryan did need his freedom, but that didn’t have to mean leaving. But, if the two of you couldn’t get together and admit you cared, you could never try to make a go of it. You were both making unilateral decisions involving the other.

Myrna sat down when she got home to decide just how far she was willing to meddle to see two people she loved admit they loved each other.

* * *

A few weeks later, the bell over the door rang while you were in the back. “I’ll be right out!” you called, hurrying to finish the frosting carrots on the mini carrot cakes.

“No need, I came on back,” Ryan said from right behind you.

You squeaked in surprise but then threw your arms around him in a hug, surprising you both.

“Oh, sorry, we don’t do that, do we?” you said quietly, looking down. Then you peeked around him and said, “And I got frosting in your hair.”

Ryan chuckled. “That’s OK, I still need a shower. I just decided to come straight here instead of going to Myrna’s first.”

“Oh, how come?” you asked, turning back to your cakes. “Sorry, I have to finish these before the frosting dries out.”

You went and washed your hands and the tip that you had stuck in Ryan’s hair, then went back to making tiny carrots.

“Those are cute,” he said, watching you work.

“Thanks,” you said with a smile. “So why’d you come here first?”

“Just been missin’ you,” he answered shyly.

“Really?” you asked happily.

“Yeah, of course,” he said as if it was obvious.

“Well thanks. I miss you when you’re gone, too,” you answered truthfully.

Ryan grinned, accepting your words as confirmation of…well, something.

Before he could say anything, you continued without looking at him, “In fact, I’ve been thinking – I think I might be getting a little too attached to you.”

“Oh?” he said, unable to come up with anything else to say.

“Yeah, and I mean, you’re obviously…and I’m…just…” you babbled, unable to find the words to express how you knew you weren’t going to be enough for him and you wanted to protect yourself.

“I get it. I been hangin’ around too much, huh?” he bit out, hurt.

“I just…” you said, then hiccuped a sob.

“Don’t worry. I won’t bother you anymore,” he said quietly, grabbing his things from the floor by the door and leaving.

You dropped to your knees where you stood, sobbing so hard you could barely breathe and calling yourself every kind of fool there was. Ryan Brenner was the best man you knew. He was kind and thoughtful and smart and sweet and so talented. You knew you were right; you could never hope to hold his interest for long. You had done the right thing.

Too bad you didn’t do it before you fell ass over applecart in love with him.

* * *

Ryan went to Myrna’s mostly on autopilot. He realized after he knocked that he probably should have gone straight back to the train yard and hopped the next train going anywhere. _Too late now, though,_ he thought as the door opened.

He had shed a few tears on his way over but was careful to dry his eyes.

Myrna took one look at him and said, “What happened?” as she pulled him inside.

“Nothin’ really. Just thought I’d pop in for an hour or so to see you before I head out.”

She looked shocked. “You’re coming and going the same day?”

“Yep.”

“Have you seen Y/N?”

Ryan looked away quickly.

_Oh, I see,_ she thought. “Was she not happy to see you?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like she was at first. Then she said she was getting too attached to me, and some nonsense about how I was obviously something or other, so I said I got it and left. I don’t wanna be a bother so I just won’t go around there anymore “

Myrna took a deep breath and shook her head.

“What?” he said harshly. “I’m a drifter. She realized I’m no good –”

“Don’t be an idiot, Ryan,” Myrna snapped. “She thinks you’d get bored with her, and that tattoo on your arm means you have to be free. She’s as in love with you as you are with her.”

“She – she loves me? Did she say that?”

“As much as. She said you’ve seen so much, how could she ever be enough?”

“I need to think. Mind if I grab a shower?”

“Go on ahead, but don’t leave town without talking to her. I guarantee she’s crying her eyes out right now.”

He nodded reluctantly. “I’ll think about it.”

* * *

It had been an hour and a half since your life had gone gray, since you lost the color and music from your life.

You wondered if you had done the wrong thing. Would it actually be worse if you had allowed yourself to have him in your life until he got bored and left on his own? Could it actually hurt worse? You really didn’t see how that was possible.

You had cried for a while and then gotten the mini peppermint brownies out to pipe a green leaf on top. You had been fine with work being your life before, you would be again. Eventually.

You sniffled. _Stop thinking about it, dumbass,_ you chastised yourself. _You don’t have time for another self-pity party._

The bell on the door rang. Not wanting to see anyone, you called out in a significantly scratchier voice, “Be right out.”

“No need, I came on back,” Ryan said.

You gasped and spun around and immediately started crying. “I’m so sorry, Ryan!”

He came over and pulled you into his arms and you cried all over him while he rubbed your back and hair, whispering nonsense.

“You came back,” you said when you calmed down.

“I did,” he agreed with a small smile. “Myrna said you think I couldn’t possibly want to be with you and that you think I need to be free.”

You looked down, but Ryan tipped your chin up. “But what you didn’t take into consideration when you set me free is that I love you.”

You sobbed and said, “I love you!”

He hugged you again. “I reckon you think you’re a fish and I’m a bird. I fell in love with you, Y/N. I don’t know where we’re gonna live, but I know I want to build a nest with you.”

You pulled back to look at him. “You do?” you asked in amazement.

“Yeah, darlin’, I do. So…please stay attached to me. You 'bout broke my heart earlier.”

You threw your arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “I’ll be more careful with it from now on, Ryan.”

Ryan leaned back and said, “I really do love you. I was so scared to say the words and then I thought I lost you without ever getting to tell you.”

You stood on tiptoes and kissed him gently. “I’ll say them to you as often as possible to make up for lost time.”

He looked into your eyes and saw the love in them and kissed you, turning his head to tease your lips open with his tongue.

You moaned at the feelings Ryan’s kiss created, not opening your eyes right away when you broke apart for air. “Holy crap, I almost missed out on that?”

Ryan laughed and hugged you again. “Oh, darlin’, I am so happy Myrna is an interfering old lady.”

“Me, too,” you said with a bright smile. “I have no idea where we’re going, but I know that as long as it’s with you, it will be amazing.”


	2. Ne'er-do-well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam Adams x Reader

It was a lovely spring day in Boston, which meant that you only needed one cloak. You were made of hardy stuff, though, so you were venturing out to do some shopping. 

Your carriage driver hopped down from his box and opened the door for you to descend. As you moved over to the doorway for him to assist you down, your maid, Mary, gasped, “Mistress, no!" 

You were shoved aside by a bulky body making a break for the door. 

"Bloody –” you hissed under your breath. “SAM!”

* * *

Samuel Adams was strolling along a side street, minding his own business when he heard what could only be compared to the shriek of a banshee wailing his name. 

Sam was the son of a preacher; he may have fallen into a bit of disrepute, but even he said a quick prayer under his breath at the sound of the unearthly screeching of his name. He thought for sure that Death was coming for him; his heart pounded in his chest.

He turned toward the sound of the baying of his name to see a gigantic black monster bearing down on him, surely one of Old Scratch’s hellhounds come to collect his soul – followed soon by a dainty lady holding a rich gown up almost to her knees, bright blue cloak flying behind her as she sprinted, bellowing, “Sam, you great mongrel, get your sorry hide back here or I will have you stuffed and mount your head over the hearth, mark me!”

Sam’s jaw dropped at the sight and sound, heart racing as he went from terror to confusion to humor in the space of a few rapid beats. He started laughing at the giant dog that probably weighed significantly more than the lady chasing him.

“Don’t just stand there laughing like a loon! Hell me catch this ill-trained moose of a cur! SAM!” you yelled at him.

Sam actually jumped at the sound of his name being bellowed like one of the lobster Officers dressing down a slovenly Private. He started calling the dog and patting his legs and wound up slammed against the building with a dog as tall as he was and nearly the same weight giving him kisses.

“Sam, stop it!” you scolded when you got ahold of the dog’s leash.

“I’m not doin’ a thing, Mistress,” Sam defended himself. “Can’t help it if your dog likes me.”

After giving a few more sharp commands, the black hound finally sat on his great haunches and looked suitably ashamed. 

You got a good look at the object of your dog’s affection and felt a jolt of shock at the most handsome man you had ever seen. You simply stared for a moment before you cleared your throat. “I am so sorry that this rotten beast jumped all over you.” You held out your hand and introduced yourself. “And you are?”

“I thought you knew?” Sam asked, confused.

“I do apologize, have we met, sir?” you replied, equally confused.

“I didn’t think so as I’m quite certain I’d recall meeting a lovely lady like you, but you called me by name…?”

The dog twitched as an alley cat flicked its tail at him to taunt him and you tightened your hold and said in a menacing voice, “Samson, don’t you dare!”

“You were calling the dog,” Sam said dumbly, the entire ridiculous situation coming together to make sense. “I thought you were my father’s ghost come to tell me what a disappointment I am and here your dog just has the same name as I,” he said with a chuckle, feeling foolish.

You grinned at the ridiculous situation. “So you are Sam. Have you a last name so that I may pray for your poor shaded soul?” you asked pertly.

Sam felt his stomach flip when you smiled. He cleared his throat when he realized he was staring. “Adams. My name is Samuel Adams.”

“Ohhh, so you are John’s ne'er-do-well cousin,” you said knowingly.

Sam looked down, embarrassed. “My reputation precedes me, I see.”

You impulsively grabbed his hand and said, “I did not mean to sound unkind. You were invited to dinner some weeks ago and they were disappointed when you did not join us. John and Abigail only spoke of you fondly.”

He looked into your eyes and then bent over your hand – quite chivalrously – and kissed the back – perhaps less than gentlemanly. “I only feared that their words might color your opinion of me before I had the opportunity to sweep you off your feet,” he said in a low voice with a slow smile and, oh, those eyes!

“Oh my goodness,” you whispered, butterflies fluttering so madly in your stomach that you thought perhaps you might take flight.

“Is something amiss, Mistress?” he asked smoothly, a satisfied smirk gracing his handsome face as he straightened but did not let loose your hand.

Your maid appeared then, fearfully scampering over to you. “Mistress, are you well? Should I fetch Dawes?” she asked, looking Sam over with distaste. Truly, his clothes were unkempt and his hair and beard a bit shaggy, yet you found him to be beautiful unto mesmerizing.

“No, Mary, he helped me apprehend Samson,” you said when you could drag your gaze from his. “Thank you again, kind sir.”

He gave your hand a squeeze and said, “Any time, Mistress.”

“Good day,” you whispered, cheeks warm and breathing a bit quickly.

“Perhaps I should escort you to your carriage. One can never tell what sort a lovely lady such as you may meet,” he said, using that low voice again.

“That would be marvelous,” you sighed. “Go on ahead, Mary, and take Samson. I’m quite safe with Mr. Adams.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said worriedly, turning and walking slowly ahead, dragging the unruly dog behind her.

“‘Tis probably inappropriate to be walking with you before being properly introduced,” you said, not sounding at all concerned at the impropriety.

Sam chuckled. “I assure you, I do not wish to gain the wrath of Abigail. She frightens me more than any ten soldiers.” He looked into your eyes and extended his arm to you. “I promise you, your virtue is safe with me.”

You sighed, almost disappointed. “I suppose it will still be sold to the highest bidder, then.”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked quietly as you walked together down the street.

“Oh, dear, I probably should not have said that,” you said, worried. “I fear I gained my Grandmama’s habit of plain speaking without the advantage of her years.”

“But now you’ve piqued my curiosity; I have to know that your virtue will be safe after I am done protecting it.”

You chuckled, slowing your walk to extend your time with this charming man. “Have we moved on from not harming my virtue to keeping it safe?”

“Mistress, I do believe you are avoiding my question,” Sam said with a smile.

“I am indeed. I do not know you well enough to be sharing secrets, or indeed to be sharing conversation,” you said primly, but not hastening your step in the least. “I do have a habit of saying too much and scaring off suitors, though. Or so my uncle tells me.”

“He may be right,” he said thoughtfully. 

“My apologies, Mr. Adams,” you whispered, looking down.

“He may be right,” he repeated, “if you use the same voice as you do with your hound. I was ready to go to the nearest church and beg the Lord’s forgiveness for all my sins.”

You looked up at him in surprise and saw a grin gracing his perfect face. You made a face at him, causing him to laugh in delight. “You are a shameful man, Mr. Adams, mocking a poor, simple country girl for her unpolished ways.”

He stopped and turned to face you, holding both of your hands in his. “I do not mock, I am but teasing. I find your openness refreshing.”

You felt your cheeks heat a bit and lowered your eyes. “I should be going. If my uncle learns of this, he will be most displeased.”

Sam’s face hardened. “He will not harm you?”

You shrugged. “Not anywhere visible,” you said wryly. “Tis more likely he would try to force you to marry me.”

Sam grinned and squeezed your hands. “What an appalling idea,” he said in a voice that told you he felt like it was anything but. 

You rolled your eyes at him, causing him to chuckle again at your cheeky behavior. “Heavens, Mr. Adams, if you continue this behavior I’ll have no choice but to think you’re a gentleman.”

“Heavens,” Sam repeated lightly, “we can’t have that. How can I assure you that I am a complete lost cause?”

“I suppose by escorting me promptly to my carriage so that my uncle has no need to march you to the altar with a musket at your back.”

“Well, I am in a bit of a conundrum,” he said with obviously fake torment. “Do I delay you further until your uncle has cause to call me out for compromising your virtue and defend your honor, or do I return you to your carriage as is proper and convince you that I do not wish to kiss you?”

“Hmmm, that is a bit like sailing between Scylla and Charybdis. Perhaps you should consult with your cousin John this evening. I am certain you could excuse yourselves to his office while I am in the parlor with Abigail?”

Sam grinned. “Perhaps that would be best. He is a wise man.”

“Oh, dear. Actually, that is not a good plan, for I have just recalled that Abigail said she would invite another gentleman to be my dinner partner since John’s ne'er-do-well cousin did not deign to attend the last dinner to which he was invited.”

The smile left Sam’s face. He was unaccountably angry – and perhaps even jealous? at the notion of another man flirting with you, walking with you, looking at you, kissing you. “Perhaps I should go visit my cousins directly after I deliver you to your coach?”

You looked at him questioningly, thumbs gently stroking the back of his hands that you were still holding. “I did not mean to upset you, Mr. Adams. Truly, I meant no harm." 

Sam picked up the back of your hand and kissed it far less chivalrously than the first time. "I will see you this evening at my cousin’s house.”

You smiled. “I think I shall add a stop to the butcher’s on my outing and buy Samson a juicy bone.”

Sam tsked and said playfully, “You would reward the hound for running off?”

You squeezed his hands gently. “Grandmama always said that rascals were tamed with kindness, not chastisement.”

Sam looked into your eyes and had to restrain himself from kissing you, right then and there. He cleared his throat and said, “Let me see you safely to your carriage, Mistress. I have a few things that will need doing before dinner this evening.”

* * *

_Two Years Later_

You were strolling through a lovely park not far from your home, your large, unruly dog pulling a bit at his leash as you had never been able to break him of doing. 

“Sam,” you said in a warning tone. 

Usually, that would be enough to put him on the straight and narrow again, but it was springtime and there was a particularly cheeky squirrel positively taunting your hound. With only the chattering of a saucy squirrel as warning, the dog jerked on his leash, yanking you forward as you attempted to keep ahold of him.

“Sam!” you bellowed.

A strong hand closed over the leash as you were about to lose your hold on it, the hand’s owner issuing a sharp whistle that stopped the dog in its tracks.

The slow smile and laughing eyes of the man you loved turned to you. “You know, I much prefer it when you yell my name in the privacy of our bed chamber, Mrs. Adams,” Sam whispered roguishly. 

“Shall we remove Samson from temptation?” you said with a sassy smile of your own.

“And deliver ourselves in the process?” he asked, feigning shock. “My dear wife, how very brazen.”

You giggled at his silliness. “You love that I am brazen,” you whispered. 

Sam grinned and said, “I do indeed.”

You gave him a smoldering look filled with promise. “Take me home and show me how much.”


	3. Love Notes, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Brenner x Reader

You walked out to the mailbox after you got home from grocery shopping, grabbing a stack of mail. Bill. Bill. Junk mail. Bill. Another postcard. 

Where was Ryan now? Montana. You always wanted to see Montana.

Of course, you had no idea who Ryan was. You had tried to contact the house’s previous owner’s family and they didn’t know. It was a shame, really. The sweet old lady who had lived here before you had made quite an impression on this Ryan fella. He dropped her a postcard every few weeks.

You had bought the house at auction after she had passed. You were trying to start fresh so you bought the house online; you never saw it in person until you picked up the keys and drove out to see it. There had been some old furniture, some photos and such, but it looked like anything of value had been stripped from the place before it was auctioned.

You had tried to get in touch with her family, but she didn’t appear to have any, which you supposed was why her estate had been handled as it had; the things with monetary value had been taken while things of sentimental value had been left behind.

You felt a bit creepy reading the postcards sent to Miss Dottie, but Ryan took the time to write them and send them, and there was no return address for you to write a note and let him know she had passed, so you felt like maybe you were doing what Miss Dottie would want you to do.

You had lived here for five months now and you had collected eight postcards from Ryan. He always sent his love along. Was he an old suitor? A star-crossed love? You spent more time wondering about Ryan than you probably should, but he was a complete mystery.

But he sure did get around. Oregon, Washington, California, Nevada, Utah, Wyoming and now Montana.

_Dear Miss Dottie,_

_Up here in Montana and the sky just goes on forever. There’s a song in those stars, it’s trying to come to me. Hopefully when I come through there I’ll be able to play it for you. I hope all is well. Still remember that peach pie you made last time I was in town, best pie ever._

_I bought a digital camera and have a lot of pictures to show you. I know you said you wish you’d traveled when you were young, hope seeing what I see can give you at least a little taste of travel._

_Love to you,_

_Ryan_

You smiled and added it to the little basket you had by the door for his love notes. Whoever Ryan was, he certainly did love his Miss Dottie.

* * *

It had been over a month since you had received a postcard from Ryan. Silly as it sounded, you were worried about the old dude. You hoped that nothing bad had happened to him.

You were making a pot roast, and then you were going to make soup out of the leftovers. It was Sunday and you were doing laundry.

You led an exciting life.

You had just come up from the basement with a basket of clean laundry that you planned to fold while you watched a movie. You plopped down with the remote and flipped Netflix on when there was a knock at the door.

You wrinkled your brows; you weren’t expecting anyone. Hell, you worked online, shopped online as much as possible and interacted little, and UPS didn’t deliver out here on Sunday.

You went and peeked out the window, and, not recognizing the man on the porch, considered not answering. Then you shrugged. Probably a salesman.

You opened the door cautiously. There was a tall, dark-haired man with a backpack and a guitar case, bundled for the winter weather. “Can I help you?”

He looked surprised to see you answer the door. “Hi. Is-is Miss Dottie home?” _Please be her beautiful and sexually liberated niece that wants me desperately._

“I’m sorry, Miss Dottie passed away about eight months ago. Were you a friend?” you asked kindly.

“Oh, man. Um, yeah, she was a real nice lady. Kind of an adopted Grandma, y'know?” he said with a sad smile.

“Well, c'mon in, I’ll answer any questions I can.”

“You don’t even know my name!” he exclaimed in shock. “You’re gonna let me in your house?”

You shrugged. “Miss Dottie apparently trusted you.”

“Oh. Well, OK,” he said uncertainly. “Did you know her well? Are you one of her great-nieces or something?”

“Oh no, I never met her, but people say she was nice,” you said absently. “Hey! Maybe you can help me solve a mystery?”

“Sure, if I can,” he said, a little off balance. Gorgeous but not quite with it?

“Oh, set your things down and have a seat. Can I make you some coffee?”

“Sure,” he said. “Mind if I wash up real quick?”

“Sure. Come on out to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

You puttered around making coffee and setting out some coffee cake you had baked. This was your first guest in your new home, so you figured you’d be a good hostess whether or not he was invited.

“Hi,” he said quietly from the kitchen doorway.

“Hey, have a seat. Do you take cream or sugar?”

“No, ma’am, I take it black.”

“Here you go. And help yourself to the coffee cake if you want. Be right back, I want to show you something.”

You came back with a handful of postcards; when he got a closer look he saw that they were the ones he sent.

You saw the look in his eyes and knew. “You’re Ryan?”

Ryan smirked. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Oh, well, do you want your love notes back?” you asked gently.

“Love notes?”

“Um, I guess I’m pretty silly. I was imagining some star-crossed love kind of thing. Full disclosure: I read every one of these. Sometimes more than once,” you said with a grin, handing them to him.

He accepted them with a confused smile. “Why?”

You shrugged. “You have a way with words, I guess? Did you find a song in the stars in Montana?”

He smiled. “Part of one, yeah.”

You made a decision. “Wanna stay for dinner and maybe play it for me later?”

Ryan looked overwhelmed. “I don’t even know your name. You have nothing to go on about me except a bunch of postcards I sent to a woman you never knew. Why would you invite me into your home?”

“Oh! Sorry, you probably think I’m super weird.” You made a face that said, ‘You might be right.’ “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. And…I kinda feel like I know you from the postcards? Or maybe I’m curious and I want to know you because of the postcards. But it’s cool if you need to go.”

Ryan stood and extended his hand, politely shaking yours when you accepted. “I’m Ryan Brenner. It’s really nice and a little strange to meet you,” he said with a beautiful smile.

And all at once it occurred to you that he was really really handsome, and your eyes dropped immediately to the tops of your shoes. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” _Kiss me passionately._

“Do I have something in my teeth?” he asked.

You peeked up curiously. “No?”

“Oh. Should I go? I’m gonna go,” he said, feeling awkward all of a sudden.

“Wait! I just ah noticed you as a person and not just the guy who wrote the postcards,” you said aloud. _Holy shit, you’re hot._

“Oh,” he said, then chuckled. “At a loss right now.” _But your lips are gorgeous. Wanna bite and lick and suck on them._

“I was so excited about solving the mystery, and I had this idea of who you were so I guess that I kinda didn’t think of you as a young man. So now I just realized that you’re – y'know, you’re welcome to stay for dinner but I understand if you think I might kill you and sell your organs and want to leave.” You stopped rambling. “I won’t really sell your organs.”

Ryan cracked a smile. “No promises about killing me though, huh?”

“If you eat my cooking? Nope,” you said with a grin.

Ryan matched your grin. “Y’know what? I feel lucky. I think I’ll stay,” he said impulsively.

“Really? Wow. My social awkwardness is feeling inadequate right now.”

“Sometimes my gut tells me to run away screaming. Right now my gut tells me I’ll be sorry if I don’t stay,” he said softly. _And you’re adorable._

“Well, so far I like your gut. Let’s see if it still likes me after you eat my cooking.”

* * *

“That was delicious. Now I’m worried you poisoned me,” Ryan joked.

“We filled our plates from the same platter and bowls, smarty pants.”

“True.”

“Unless, like the Dread Pirate Roberts, I have spent the last five years building up immunity to the poison,” you announced in a diabolical voice and then did an evil villain laugh.

Ryan laughed. “You’re weird. I like that in a girl.”

You chuckled. “Thanks. You like weird people, I like that in a man.”

“Can I help you clean up?” he asked politely.

“Sure, but how did you get here? I didn’t see a car.”

“Oh I caught a ride out here. I’ll be fine.”

“If she was your adoptive Grandma, were you planning to stay with her?” you asked shrewdly.

“Yeah I usually did when I came through. I was trying to time my visits so I could do some seasonal work for her; cover windows, store patio furniture, take it back out, till her garden, last year I built her raised beds,” he said sadly.

“How long did you usually visit?” you asked quietly, knowing that he was grieving. You understood grief, and for some reason you didn’t want this gentle man to grieve alone.

“Usually a week or two. Depended on what she needed and if I had anywhere I had to be.”

“So where are you gonna stay now that Miss Dottie is gone?”

He gave a half-smile. “Reckon I should put my mind to that.”

The wheels in your head spun quickly. “How about I give you the Miss Dottie deal?” you offered.

“Beg pardon?”

“You can stay here and help me finish some stuff I can’t easily do alone, I’ll feed you and you can stay in a guest room. Thoughts?”

“Why?” he asked, mystified. Ryan had never experienced such generosity from a stranger.

You shrugged. “I need help and I don’t know anyone around here.”

You watched all the questions in Ryan’s expression, like he was super curious and wanted to know but thought it might be rude to ask.

You grinned. “And if you stick around and do some heavy lifting, you might get the answers to all those questions on your face.”

Ryan smiled and said, “I am a terrible poker player.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said with a chuckle. “No dessert, sorry. Unless you want coffee cake.”

“Actually, that would be great. It was really good.”

“Thanks!” you said as you unwrapped the cake. “Want me to nuke it for a moment? Or a scoop of ice cream?”

“No, ma’am, it’s good just like this,” he said gratefully.

“OK, I don’t think I’m old enough for you to keep calling me 'ma'am,’ Ryan.”

“Sorry, habit.”

“Naw, I’m just kidding. When you travel a lot, I imagine you get used to being respectful to women or you get trouble sent your way?”

He looked surprised again. “How…?”

“I just know how shitty and judgmental people can be.”

Once again, there were questions flying around in Ryan’s head and they showed on his face.

You laughed. “I dunno how anyone could ever be threatened by you, though. You have the sweetest eyes I think I’ve ever seen. I swear, I’ve seen puppies that could take lessons from you,” you said merrily.

“You…are somethin’ else, Y/N,” he said with a hesitant smile. “And, yeah, I’m used to having people give me grief if I look at 'em wrong.”

“So if you don’t have a car, how do you get around?”

“Ah trains, mostly,” he said reticently.

“Whoa, that must get expensive,” you said in shock.

Ryan looked down. Now you’d ask him to leave. “Ah no, I hop freight trains.”

“Oh!” You thought about it for a minute, looked like you were going to ask him something, then decided not to.

“What?” he said, worried.

“I was going to ask about y'know…bathroom issues, but then I decided that might be a second day kinda question.”

“Second date?” he asked, eyes huge.

You frowned. “I said second day, actually, but if you’re asking,” you said with a wink.

“You…are a trip,” he said.

You shrugged. “You are not the first person to tell me that. Want me to give you a ride into town?”

Ryan looked at you, thinking quickly. You were odd, no question. But you had been really nice, and he didn’t often get such kindness from strangers. They saw his tattooed fingers and worn clothes and automatically saw him as a threat. Yet, you had opened your home to a complete stranger because a dead lady you had never met loved him. “Are you uninviting me?” he asked quietly.

You looked surprised. “No, not at all. I just figured my weirdness outweighed my hotness,” you replied with a laugh.

He looked you straight in the eye and said, “It absolutely doesn’t.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, surprise leading to shock. You were cute at best when you tried, and today you definitely had not tried. You had taken a shower, thrown on old, worn jeans, a ratty hoodie and your fleece slippers, barely even finger combing your hair and getting it out of your face, not a spot of makeup. You tilted your head a bit. “For the first date we might wanna have your eyesight checked.”

Ryan’s eyebrows shot up and he started laughing. When he could talk again, he said, “Maybe there’s more to hotness than just clothes and makeup?”

You sighed. “You’re so lucky, you don’t need it.”

“What are we talking about, clothes or makeup?” he said in an uncharacteristically flirty tone.

You did a double-take and faked a gasp. “Why Mr. Brenner, are you flirting with me?” you asked, pretending to clutch your pearls.

“That depends,” he said with a really sexy smile that just…wow. That should be illegal.

“On?” you whispered.

“Did you like it?” he whispered back.

“It’s been so long that I can’t remember,” you said, a bit mesmerized by his eyes. “I think I might.”

“Then maybe I was,” he said with a smile.

“Huh,” you said in surprise.

“What?”

“Just, this day has not gone as I’d expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Folding laundry and watching Netflix,” you said with a laugh.

“Still can,” he said.

“I can fold tomorrow. We need to get you settled in the guest room.”

* * *

You put clean sheets on the bed together and showed him where towels and such were.

“Sorry about the boxes. We can unpack or move them up to the attic.”

“Any way I could do some laundry?” he asked carefully.

“Tonight or tomorrow? We can have a folding party,” you said with a smile.

“You know how to have a good time,” he laughed.

You shrugged. “I guess I used to. Things change. Grab your laundry, I’ll show you where it is.”

“Did I upset you?” he asked, concerned.

“Nah, just brought to mind something that’s never far from it anyways,” you said with a sad smile.

“I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener,” he said, grabbing his laundry.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said with a smile.

“Hey, d'you mind if I take a quick shower so I can wash these, too?”

“No, go ahead, I’ll go fold,” you said with a smile, grateful for the respite. There were just some things you weren’t ready to talk about.

* * *

Ryan reappeared in a pair of sweats and a holey t-shirt, hair still wet and goddamn, he was handsome. You actually stared for a moment before you caught yourself and cleared your throat. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” he said like he hadn’t seen you stare. “Always good to take a hot shower. Travel like I do and you don’t take it for granted,” he said.

“I bet,” you said with a smile. “Laundry’s this way.”

You went down and he put a load of laundry in to wash, then you came upstairs and asked him to play the song he started in Montana.

He played it for you, though there wasn’t a whole lot of it, but then he played you a bunch of old classics and new original songs.

You were clapping enthusiastically. “Ryan, you’re marvelous!”

“Thank you,” he said shyly, still uncomfortable with praise.

“So you just hop trains and go wherever the mood takes you?” you asked when he put his guitar down and relaxed on the sofa with you, sipping a bottle of water.

“Yep. Just see where I want to go and when a train is heading that way.”

“You’re free.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess I am now,” you said softly, as if it was just occurring to you.

“How so?” Ryan asked.

You shook yourself as if from a daze. “You’re probably tired. Should we move your laundry along and hit the hay?”

He smiled. “Yeah, good idea. I got the laundry.”

“OK, see you in the morning. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge or cupboards if you get hungry.”

“Thanks. Night.”

“G'night,” you said softly, then headed up to your bedroom.

* * *

The next few days were busy. You and Ryan worked well together and you were able to get so much done that would have taken you ages to do alone.

“Oh my gawd Ryan,” he loved how you pronounced it gawd. “You are an absolute angel.” You plopped down on the sofa and put your stocking feet up on the coffee table and leaned your head back.

Ryan plopped down next to you, his feet going onto the table next to yours. “Workin’ with you is fun.”

You rolled your head to the side to look at him and grinned, then nudged his foot with one of yours. “You, too. I’m so glad you showed up on my doorstep.”

“I’m glad you decided to keep me,” he said softly. _Kinda wish you really would._ Where did that thought come from?

_Keeping you sounds really good._ You blinked a couple times and then smiled. “Me, too.” Then you got your question face on and said, “Anyone keep you for real?”

“What like a relationship?” he asked in surprise.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t even know if you’re straight or queer or anything.”

“Does that matter?”

“Not a bit,” you said honestly.

He looked at you and decided you meant it. “I’ve had a couple relationships, but living like I do they never really last long.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re great. If I had someone I really cared about, I’d want him around,” you said logically.

“Turns out that’s a pretty standard relationship thing. Who knew?” he said with a self-deprecating smile.

“I think it would have to be a really honest and strong relationship to handle that. I mean…at the beginning of a relationship you want your partner with you all the time because you can’t stand to be apart. Then when relationships progress, you have shared responsibilities like chores and dogs and kids and bills. It would be really hard to be with someone who wasn’t around.”

“And I haven’t found the person I want to stop traveling for,” he sighed.

“Well see that’s the thing,” you said, spacing out a little. “You have to be selfish when you decide to be in a relationship. You have to know that this is the person that you want, not just the person who wants you. You have to be the one you want to stop traveling for. If you make concessions at the very beginning, it can’t last.”

Ryan was silent for a while. “Someday you’ll have to tell me about your concessions.”

“Hmm?” you mumbled as you shook yourself out if your funk. “Oh. Nah, no big deal. In the past.”

_Still wanna know._ “Any time you wanna talk.”

“Thanks,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze. You held on for a few moments before saying, “We should figure out dinner. Hungry?”

“Starving,” he said with a smile.

“You always are. I swear you must still be growing,” you said with a laugh as you stood up to go to the kitchen. “Either that or one of those long legs is hollow.”

Ryan watched your ass framed perfectly in worn jeans and thought, _Parts of me grow a lot around you._

* * *

You got a lot of work done, but it wasn’t constant. You played a few board games, watched movies, listened to him play while you read…it was just really comfortable.

One evening after dinner, he was strumming his guitar and you were reading a book, soothed by his music and presence. _Don’t get used to him being around, Y/N._

“Y/N?”

You looked up from your book. “Hmm?”

“What happened?” he asked quietly, hesitantly.

“What happened when?” you asked, genuinely not knowing what he meant.

“What happened that made you buy a house online and move across the country? I mean…you seem sad sometimes and then almost guilty sometimes when you laugh.” He still hadn’t looked up at you, afraid he had crossed a line and you’d be mad.

“I thought we established I’m weird?” you evaded.

He strummed the guitar a few times. “I heard you talkin’ to your Mom earlier. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he said earnestly, looking into your face.

You smiled and shook your head. “It’s OK. I wasn’t quiet.” You exhaled. “She thinks I’m being ridiculous.”

He just hummed a response, not wanting to startle you into silence.

“I was married.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” You chewed your lower lip. “We dated for a while and he proposed way too soon and way too publicly and I said yes when I shouldn’t have, but all these people were watching.” You sighed.

He just waited while you collected your thoughts.

“I was dawdling with setting a date or doing any wedding planning because I didn’t want to marry him. I liked him, but I didn’t love him. At least not the right way.” You tried to find the words to say something that you had never said aloud. “I wanted to break up with him. I had just worked up the nerve to do it, planned out what I was going to say, and he was diagnosed with a rare kidney cancer.”

Ryan stopped playing and took your hand. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s not grief, Ryan, it’s guilt,” you whispered heavily. “He said we needed to move the wedding up, that my love would help him fight it, give him strength.”

“How could you say no?” he asked rhetorically.

You nodded, wiping at tears. “Ryan, I stood before God and our families and friends and swore to love him and I didn’t.”

He pulled you into his arms gently, giving you opportunity to pull back.

You didn’t want to, though. This was the first human contact beyond incidental in almost a year. You snuggled into his chest and he rubbed your back and whispered comforting nonsense.

You calmed down and pulled away from him. “Thanks, Ryan.”

“No problem,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze. _Look at you using her grief as an excuse to touch her._

“You’re the only person I’ve told. Thank you for not judging me,” you said. “At least out loud.”

“I’m not judging you. You sacrificed your happiness for his comfort. That’s noble.”

You shook your head. “I dunno. Before he died he told me that he knew I was going to break it off, but he was selfish in keeping me with him. He was in hospice by then. He apologized, I forgave him. And we were friends, so I think I helped him at the end.”

“So you aren’t terrible, you were a good friend.”

“I mean…everyone offered me condolences. I felt like a fraud.”

“So you bought a house and moved away.”

“And became a hermit. Yup.”

“Well, this is probably gonna sound selfish as hell, but I’m glad you did,” he said with a smile.

“Yeah, I am now, too.” You paused to gather your thoughts again. “I am really grateful that you came by, because you woke me up. And I needed that. So thank you.”

He shook his head. “No, thank you! You coulda just said Miss Dottie didn’t live here, or even just slammed the door in my face. You’re a good person,Y/N. At least I think so.” _I think you’re amazing. I should get the hell out of here._

“I think you are, too.” _And so sweet and adorable. Seriously, can I keep you?_

* * *

You worked side by side for over two weeks. He helped you move boxes and furniture, did some repairs that you didn’t know how to do and taught you how to do them, helped you paint and clean out the little barn out in back.

And during that time, you chatted or listened to music, finding that Ryan liked pretty much everything. It was easy and comfortable and he was smart and funny when he opened up a bit.

He was getting into your heart, and you didn’t seem to be able to stop it – you weren’t even sure you wanted to stop it. You’d been walking around in a haze for so long that, while scary, it was good to actually feel again.

* * *

You went into town together to buy some supplies and a new grill and got a few looks. People weren’t really used to seeing you, let alone with a handsome but rough-around-the-edges man. Ryan received a combination of suspicious looks and admiring looks from people on the street. You could tell he was uncomfortable so you slipped your arm through his and gave it a squeeze.

“Thanks for coming into town with me. I don’t come in for much more than a quick errand so people still give me all the looks.”

Ryan chuckled. “They’re lookin’ at me like I’m gonna smack the pastor’s wife and steal their children,” he muttered.

You hugged his arm and laughed. “I love kids, how about you?”

“Yeah, I like kids.”

“But only when they’re prepared just right,” you whispered conspiratorially with a twinkle in your eye.

Ryan barked a laugh. “You’re rotten,” he said, giving your arm that was still linked with his a squeeze before moving apart and opening a door for you.

You were in the hardware store looking at grills when a voice said, “Hey, Ms. Y/L/N. How are you?”

You both turned to see the local sheriff smiling at you. “Doing fine, Sheriff. How are you?” you asked, as if you didn’t know that he was only talking to you because of Ryan.

“Real good, thanks. Who’s this you have here?”

You smiled. “My friend,” you said, placing yourself partially in front of Ryan protectively.

His smile took on an edge. “Does your friend have a name?”

“Do I need to report when I have guests?” you said, your smile turning fierce as you prepared to defend Ryan.

“Ryan Brenner,” he said quickly with a friendly smile, putting his hand out to shake. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Nice to meet you. Interesting ink. Where’d you get those done?” he asked, looking at Ryan’s fingers.

“You looking to get a tattoo, Sheriff?” you interrupted.

“I got them years ago at a little shop in Tuscon,” Ryan answered honestly.

“You sure you didn’t get ‘em in prison?” he asked with a friendly smile.

“OK, you have no –” you started.

“Real sure,” he answered, interrupting you before you could get in the sheriff’s face.

“Y'know, he was Miss Dottie’s friend,” you said forcefully. “So if you don’t trust my judgment, maybe you’ll trust hers.”

“Just doin’ my job,’ he said, smile forced now.

“Ryan is a perfect gentleman, a fine person and an excellent musician,” you said passionately. “He’s a welcome guest in my home, and that shouldn’t be any of your business but he seems to be more comfortable with you knowing all that.”

“You both enjoy the rest of your day,” he said, walking away without waiting for you to return his good wishes.

You turned back to the grills, muttering about people thinking they can judge other from their appearance, then you turned around and said loudly to the sheriff’s back, “Y’know the Bible says not to judge people on their appearances!”

Ryan shushed you. “You’re gonna get in trouble, Y/N!”

“For what? Standing up for my friend? He can bite my –”

Ryan put his hand over your mouth gently to get you to quit talking, but there was a fond look on his face and a twinkle in his eye. You bit his hand lightly.

“I don’t like to be silenced, my good sir,” you said with narrowed eyes but no real anger.

“I just don’t want you to get in trouble for me,” he whispered sincerely.

“It’s my ass,” you said, still bristling over the encounter.

“Yeah, well, I’m real fond of it, so try not to get it thrown in jail for me, OK?”

You exhaled. “Can I get it thrown in jail for me?”

He rolled his eyes. He had found a stubborn streak in you today. “I’d rather your ass stay nice and safe.”

“Guess you better keep an eye on it,” you said with a wink.

“I do whenever possible,” he flirted without thinking.

“Why, Ryan Brenner! You little creeper you!” you laughed, bumping your shoulder into his.

He bumped yours back, grabbing your hand and giving it a quick squeeze before letting go just as quickly. “Thanks, though,” he said quietly.

“For what? Mouthing off to the sheriff? It was my pleasure,” you said with relish.

For some reason, Ryan felt you say the word 'pleasure.’

_Well, that’s not good_. He cleared his throat. “For mouthing off for me. Not too many people would do that.”

“Well, I meant it. And also, have you not noticed I’m abnormal?”

“I feel like maybe 'unique’ or 'quirky’ would be a nicer and more accurate way to say it.”

“Eh, call a spade a spade,” you said with a shrug.

“Unless it’s a shovel.”

“And you say I’m weird.”

“I did not say you were weird!” he said with a laugh. “Are we buyin’ a grill or what?”

* * *

You assembled the grill together and then made inaugural steaks.

You closed your eyes and moaned. “Oh my gawwwwd, Ryan, this steak is so gooood.”

Ryan swallowed hard, imagining that sound and those words while he was buried… _OK stop it, man. You can’t be with her._ “Glad you like it.”

“Mmm yeah it’s just right,” you said.

_Lord, woman, stop it!_ “I…good.”

You looked at him, head tilted a bit to the side. “You OK?”

“Yeah, of course!” _I mean, I’m falling in love with you and you treat me like your eunuch BFF, but I’m fine._

“OK,” you said suspiciously, sipping the wine you had bought to go with the meal. You smiled and held your glass up and said, “To new friends, however you find them. Or they find you.”

Ryan smiled and tapped his glass against yours and said, “To friends,” then took a sip.

_Fuck, Y/N, stop looking at his mouth. And his throat. And his hands. Just look down, fool._ “So, what project should we tackle next?”

“Ah, I was actually thinking I should be on my way soon,” he said softly. _Ask me to stay!_

“Oh!” you said in surprise, then slapped a smile on your face. “Well, yeah, I guess I kept you longer than you planned, huh?” _But I want you to stay forever!_

“I’ve enjoyed being here and getting to know you,” he said warmly. _I wanted to get to know you better, though._

_Wish we’d gotten to know each other biblically._ “Me, too.”

“So unless you need me for anything else, I figured I’d head out in a day or two.” _Please need me._

_Yes, I need you!_ “No, of course,” you said half-heartedly. “You’ve done so much for me. You have to get back to your life. Of course you do.” _Just y'know, can I sneak into your backpack?_

“Maybe I’ll come through here again sometime, y'know?” _Can I come back and torture myself with you being close but untouchable some more?_

“Hey, as long as I live here, you’re welcome,” you said sincerely.

“Might hold you to that,” he said with a smile.

“Well, you probably need to do some laundry, huh? I’ll clean up,” you offered, quickly gathering dishes and going to the sink so Ryan wouldn’t see that you might possibly cry.

Ryan grabbed his laundry and went down to the basement so that you wouldn’t see that he might get a little misty.

* * *

The next morning, Ryan woke up and followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen. There was a note in front of the coffee maker with the cup he liked to use.

_Dear Ryan,_

_Had to run into town for a few things. Should be back soon. Help yourself to whatever you want._

_Y/N_

“What if what I want is you, Y/N?” he muttered quietly.

He got his things packed up and then heard your SUV pull in. A couple minutes later, you appeared carrying some large bags.

“Let me help you!” he scolded.

“I’m fine!” you said as you dropped the bags to the coffee table. “Have a seat, please?”

He sat down next to you,setting g his coffee cup on a side table. “What’s all this?”

“Upgrades!” you said happily, pulling a new backpack, a travel cover for his guitar, zipper bags, space bags, snacks, baby wipes, antibacterial gel, medicines, Band-Aids, shampoo and body wash, deodorant, socks, gloves and a couple fleece hoodies and t-shirts.

“You bought all this for me?” he said softly.

“Obviously you don’t have to take any of it that you won’t use,” you said nervously.

“This is real nice but you don’t need to,” he said. “I don’t expect anything.”

“Let me do this for you. Let me know that even though I may never see you again, I gave you the best possible sendoff?”

_Best possible way I’d have my tongue inside you somewhere._ “These are great, thanks.”

_I’d rather keep you here so I know you’re safe, but if I can’t drag you to my room and tie you to the bed I’ll just have to make do with supplying you as best I can._ “I’m glad. Had breakfast?”

“No,” he said quietly.

“Let’s get your tummy full and then you can get going while it’s still early. I’ll drive you in, OK?”

“That’d be nice, thanks.”

* * *

You drove into town by the train yards. Ryan showed you where a safe place to drop him would be and you pulled over, popped the back and helped him unload his gear. “Did I overload you?” you asked, concerned with how heavy the pack was.

“Naw it’s good. Thanks for everything, Y/N,” he said, pulling you in for a friendly hug. _God she smells good and feels good against me._

“Thank you. You helped me so much, and not just with the house. Come back any time. I mean it.” _And feel free to lose your clothes along the way._

You looked at each other for a minute, neither ready to admit that they had fallen pretty hard and deep for the other in such a short time.

“I’ll see you, Y/N,” he promised.

“You better,” you said, sneaking in one last hug. “Be safe. Be you. Be amazing.”

“Gonna miss you,” he growled.

“Me too.”

* * *

You went home and the house seemed empty. You walked up to Ryan’s room, but it was exactly as he found it, as if he hadn’t existed.

You felt the color he had given to your life leeching out like a kid’s bouncy ball left too long in the sun. First the color goes, then the flatness sets in, leaving it a colorless, shapeless blob of plastic that gets tossed aside.

You had fallen back into your old habits within two days of Ryan’s departure.

* * *

You walked out to the mailbox after you got home from running errands, grabbing a stack of mail. Bill. Bill. Junk mail. Bill. A postcard? Did it get lost in the mail and a love note for Miss Dottie was just reaching you?

You hurried inside and read it:

_Dear Miss Y/N;_

_I hope all is well with you. I find myself thinking about the time we shared a lot. Please know that you made an impression and you have a place in my heart._

_Leaving was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I kept hoping you’d ask me to stay, and then I realized that you told me you would’t, that I am the only person who I can stop traveling for._

_So I have been giving it some thought and I might just be ready for it if I maybe had someone who wanted me to stay put._

_Here’s my phone number. I’ll be waiting to see if you want to talk to me, and maybe see about finishing up some projects that could take years to finish. Maybe a lifetime._

_What I’m trying to say here is that I started falling in love with you and wondered if maybe you had anything like that going on. Feelin’ kinda stupid writing this. Maybe I’ll just tie myself to the train tracks._

_Love to you,_

_Ryan_

Your heart was thumping so hard that you thought you might fall over if you didn’t sit down. You plopped down on the sofa, picked your phone up and dialed, huge grin on your face.

“Ryan? Hey, I was wondering if you had any handyman recommendations?”


	4. Love Notes, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan returns to an extremely warm welcome.

You had been working in your yard all day. You really didn’t think it through when you bought a house on five acres that you would have to mow and weed and landscape _five fucking acres_. You had invested in a good riding mower and had finished mowing and trimming, pulling weeds and deadheading flowers, and now you felt like your arms were going to fall off.

You were now lying on a blanket under a tree, sipping some iced tea and reading a book. You hoped to hear from Ryan later today but you knew it would depend on whether he was able.to catch the right trains and that went smoothly.

You talked almost every day and were as in love with him as you could without living in close proximity. He was the sweetest, funniest and best person you had ever known. You knew he had some loose ends to tie off with friends he needed to visit and places he needed to go, but he was as devoted to you as you were to him. You were excited for the future for the first time in a long time.

But right now, it was a soft afternoon in early summer and you had a good book. You had found the man of your dreams; that was more than most people could say. Now you just needed to wait until he was ready to start your life together. You dozed off while reading, book becoming your pillow as you rolled onto your side.

* * *

Ryan was more nervous than he could ever remember being in his life. He had decided to surprise you and not tell you he was coming. For some reason he’d thought it would be romantic to show up on your doorstep like he had that first time. Now he just felt like barfing as he waited for you to answer the door.

His nerves were beyond frayed. Were you even home? He walked over to peek in the garage and saw your SUV. He went back to the door, worried now. He tried the knob and found it unlocked, walking in and calling your name.

He went to the kitchen and saw you weren’t there, hollered down the steps into the basement, going down to see if you had fallen down the steps, but there was no sign of you.

He ran up the steps and started to head up to your bedroom when something in the yard caught his eye through the window. He stopped and looked, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw you asleep under the tree. He opened the back door and walked out, heart beating wildly at the sight of you.

God you were beautiful. He walked quietly over to you and sat down next to you, caressing your cheek softly so as not to startle you.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

“Mmm Ryan,” you said, opening your eyes, then they flew open and you rolled over onto him in a tackle hug. “Oh my gawd you’re HERE!”

Ryan laughed and hugged you back, relishing the feeling of having you in his arms. When you had hugged goodbye, there had been no understanding, no soft words spoken. Now he could hold you and –

Ryan rolled you over onto your back and looked at you with such warmth, such affection. “I love you, Y/N,” he said quietly.

You smiled, almost in tears. “I love you, too, Ryan. I’ve missed you so much,” you said, squeezing him.

Ryan leaned back and drank in your beauty. “I forgot how pretty you are.” He kissed you, deep and hot. “And how much I want you,” he growled.

“What do you do –” you stopped.

Ryan laughed, having an idea of what you were going to ask. “Depends on the weather. Luckily it’s been decent since I left you,” he said as he leaned in to kiss your throat. “Because my strumming hand has been getting a workout, and I don’t mean playing guitar.”

“I’m all sweaty and dirty, Ryan,” you groaned as he continued to kiss your neck, his hands roaming all over.

“So am I. Let’s go take a shower,” he said, hopping to his feet.

“Oh, you’re STRUMMING hand!” you exclaimed, just realizing what he meant.

Ryan threw his head back and laughed until he felt your hand in the waist of his pants. “Whoa there, darlin’,” he groaned.

“I was just gonna strum you a little,” you said with a mischievous grin. “Or is it more of a harmonica type instrument?”

“Well look at you bein’ a little vixen. Where was this girl when I was here before?” he asked as he pulled you close by your hips, his big hands digging into your ass a bit as he rubbed his hard cock against you.

You slipped your hand back down to the front of his jeans and gently squeezed, causing him to inhale sharply and close his eyes as his hips snapped against you. “She was here all along,” you said, leaning forward to bite his neck gently. “I just didn’t say any of it out loud. But your ears had to have been burning. And I can be very quiet when I masturbate. One time I was worried you heard me say your name when I came, though.”

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut tight at the image that brought up. “Do you mean to tell me you were on the other side of the wall from me, rubbing your pussy and you didn’t let me taste it even once?”

You growled and pushed Ryan back down on the blanket, pulling off his boots and socks while he pulled his shirt off, then you pulled off your shirt and sports bra, then you went after his jeans while he undid your shorts. In a few moments you were both bare to each other, kissing and touching and then you were climbing on him, sliding his cock inside your pussy, both of you so close to coming apart that you were wild.

Ryan’s hands were everywhere while you found just the right angle and rode his cock for all you were worth. He was biting his lip and trying to make sure you came before him, because holy hell you looked and felt so fuckin’ good on top of him and he had wanted you for so long that he had barely made it out of his pants.

You started moving more quickly, chanting his name and telling him how much you loved him. He knew you were close so he licked his thumb and rubbed your clit and you exploded, screaming so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if they got a visit from his buddy the sheriff later. But he couldn’t be bothered with that, because your cunt was twitching all over his cock and he grabbed your hips and slammed up into you until he shot rope after rope of cum up into you. “HOly shiiiit,” he groaned as he came and came.

“Ahhhh, fuuuuuuck Ryan, that was perfect baby,” you gasped as you collapsed on his chest. You lifted your head and gave him a sloppy kiss. “Love you so much, honey.”

“Goddamn, baby,” he panted, then rotated his hips with his cock still inside you and you did a full-body shiver, squeezing him with your pussy. “If I had known –”

“Baby, I fantasized about tying you to my bed to keep you without knowing that you have a big, talented cock,” you whispered, making him groan.

“We can do that later,” he moaned.

“Hope you don’t have anywhere you have to be,” you said, nuzzling his neck, “because I never want to go through being away from you again.”

He grabbed your chin and kissed you, a little teeth and a lot of tongue. “Not planning to go anywhere without you,” he growled.

“Good, coz right now I wanna be so close I hold your pecker while you pee.”

Ryan laughed and said, “You are so weird.”

“Lucky for me you like weird women.”

“Uh uh. Just you,” he said with a sweet smile. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you back, Ryan. I was kidding about holding your penis while you pee, though. Even I’m not that weird.”

“Oh, darlin’, you are gonna lead me a merry chase, aren’t you?” he said, grinning madly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you catch me,” you said with a kiss to his nose. “Do you suppose we should take our naked, gooey asses inside?”

“As long as we get naked and gooey again later.”

“Deal,” you said, standing on wobbly legs.

Ryan hopped up and smacked your ass, then groped it a little, so you gave his a squeeze. “You have no idea how much I wanted to touch you when you were here before.”

“Well then we wasted a lot of time, sweetheart, because I was havin’ all kinds of dirty thoughts about you.”

“Then the only reasonable thing to do is go inside, shower, tell each other all our dirty thoughts and do our level best to recreate them.”

“We’re gonna need protein.”

You rubbed his cock. “I got my source here.”

He laughed in amazement. “I love you.”

You grabbed his hand and grinned at him, so happy he was actually here. “I love you so much. Welcome home, Ryan.”

He inhaled sharply. “You’re my home, babe.”

“You’re mine. But thankfully, Miss Dottie brought us together.”

“I think she must have been watching out for me,” he said emotionally.

“And me.”

You held hands and walked inside together, so happy to start your life.

Miss Dottie would be proud.


	5. Settle Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Tortano x Reader from the movie By the Gun.

You were the one that got away from Nick Tortano.

You had dated for years, from junior year in high school, through college for you and you were talking about moving in together, even though your parents didn’t approve. You were almost done with your first year of grad school. He was hanging out with friends and getting money God only knew where.

Your parents had always hoped that you would break up and when he had started to get in real trouble, you had granted them their wish.

“Nicky, you have to stop! How can we move in together if you can’t stay out of trouble?” you screamed in frustration.

“Oh what do you want me to do, get a 9 to 5 somewhere? Settle down and become my father? I ain’t that guy, Y/N!” he yelled back.

Your tempers were both short and while you never, ever got physical, you both said things in anger that were just so…mean.

“Well, maybe I need to be with that guy,” you answered quietly.

The fact that you said it quietly scared Nick more than if you had come at him with a knife. “No, babe, don’t say that. I can change…I’ll – I’ll settle down! Maybe we get married in a year or two?”

You shook your head sadly. “I love you, Nicky, but maybe everyone else isn’t wrong and we’re not right, y'know?”

“What do you mean?” he asked in a choked whisper.

“I mean…maybe love isn’t enough. I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

He narrowed his eyes and looked at you, but you wouldn’t meet his gaze. You knew that if you saw an ounce of anything soft in him you would back down, but this was the right thing to do.

“You’re just gonna kick me to the curb, huh? Listen to your parents and all those holier than thou friends o’ yours that are marrying doctors and dentists that are probably fucking their secretaries on the side, huh?” he seethed.

“Yeah, Nicky, I’m all about the money and prestige!” you sneered angrily. “Christ, don’t you get it? You’re mixing up with bad people! You’re gonna get hurt. And I can’t watch it. I just can’t.”

“You want us to be over? You don’t love me?” he asked quietly.

“I think I’ll always love you. But I can’t go down this road with you, Nicky.”

He nodded sadly. “Yeah, I get it. I’m a fuckup. You were always too good for me. I can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out,” he said sadly.

“I am not saying that. If anything I’m saying that I love you too much. If anything happened to you it would break me forever, and you’re running with trouble.”

Nick laughed incredulously. “So you’re breakin’ up with me because you love me too much? That’s a good one. Thanks for the laugh,” he said bitterly, getting up and walking out of your life.

* * *

You had been broken up with Nick Tortano for six years now, and it still made your heart ache to think of him. Yeah, you knew he had gone to prison and yeah, you knew he was running in even more dangerous circles than before. But there was a part to Nicky that nobody else got to see; and you wondered if you leaving him had killed that part.

Life goes on, though. You were working as a school librarian at a high school and still living with your parents. It was ridiculously expensive to have a place near where you worked and your parents didn’t mind.

And you were dating someone. Oh, you had been out on dates; it wasn’t like you took a vow of chastity after Nick. But to be honest, after a while you didn’t bother with more than a couple dates if it didn’t seem like there was settle down potential. You had slept with a couple of the guys after a few dates and it was awful. You hated to admit it, but Nicky just might have spoiled sex for you. Nobody else could light you up like he had.

The guy you were dating, Andrew, he was…nice. He had a lot going for him. You had a lot in common. He was a teacher at the school where you were librarian; he taught American History, you had done your undergrad in American history. You liked the same movies and books, and most importantly, he wasn’t Nicky.

He really only had one major flaw; he wasn’t Nicky.

Seems like Nick Tortano had ruined more than sex for you. You still loved him, you knew that. For a while you had hoped it was just because he was your first love. Now, though, you knew he was your true love. Six years apart, seeing him at a distance at a couple of social occasions where he had made a point of sticking his tongue down the throat of a prettier girl than you – well, Nick had moved on, but you didn’t think you ever would.

But did that mean you should never have thing things you had planned to have with him one day? A home, a dog, some kids maybe – you still wanted those things. But, was it fair to Andrew to deny him the opportunity to have someone love him the way you knew you would always love Nicky?

* * *

Nick was walking down the street, talking to people he knew and reminding a few people that their bills were coming due. He groaned internally when he saw a fake blonde with fake tits walking toward him.

“Hey, Nicky, long time no see,” said Missy, a girl from high school. He had known she had a crush on him while he was with you; she had even tried to get him to cheat on you with her a few times. After a while he wasn’t really sure if she wanted him or hated you more.

She was the first girl he had fucked when you had dumped him.

“Hey, Missy. What’s shakin’?”

“Just wondered if you heard the news, but ya ain’t cryin’ so I guess not,” she said with a mean smile.

She hadn’t appreciated it when he hadn’t called her again after their one night stand.

Nicky sneered a smile. “Yeah? Whatta you think would make me cry? Other than remembering I wasted a rubber on you?”

Missy smiled happily. This was going to be fun. “Y/N is getting married.”

Nick tried not to give her the satisfaction of seeing his reaction, but he knew that he had failed when she got a triumphant look on her face. “Have a nice day, Nicky.”

“Fuck you,” he muttered, walking away.

* * *

Nicky was hammered. He had been hitting it pretty hard at the bar, and then he had stopped by the packy and grabbed a rack of Bud after he left.

He was standing on the corner a couple houses down from your parents’ drinking them now.

It had been six years and you still had been together longer than you had been apart. Seven years together, first everythings together…how had you just thrown that away like it was a piece of fuckin’ toilet paper stuck to your shoe?

Nick finished up another beer. He was just drunk enough that it seemed like a good idea to ask you.

* * *

You were asleep in your bedroom when you thought you heard something. You froze in terror when you realized that someone was in your bedroom.

“You can stop playin’ possum, Y/N. I slept with you enough times to know when you’re really asleep.”

You gasped and whispered, “Nicky?”

He sat down on the edge of your bed. “Yup.”

“Ugh. You’re wasted. Get out,” you said in disgust.

“Don’t worry, baby, I ain’t so drunk I can’t get it up.”

“Gross.”

“Oh, does Andrew trip your trigger now? Don’t need my cock anymore?”

“Nicky, I haven’t seen your cock for six years. Pretty sure we established I could do without it before I met Andrew,” you said drily. “And how do you know his name, huh? Stalking me or something? And what the fuck are you doing coming in my window? We aren’t kids anymore.”

He laughed bitterly. “Missy was kind enough to inform me that you were engaged. Asked a couple people after who you were marryin’ and they said some teacher named Andrew.”

“Oh, Missy that you fucked the day we broke up? That Missy?” you asked in a nasty tone, not even realizing how much that revealed until it was too late.

“Ya heard about that, huh?” he said with a laugh.

“Yeah, it was fuckin’ hilarious,” you sneered. _Christ,_ you thought. _I haven’t dropped an F bomb for ages and he shows up and I sound like a curse word war zone._ “What are you doing here, Nick?”

“He make you scream like I do?” he said in a husky voice that always got you wet. He could read the phone book in that voice and you’d unzip his jeans with your teeth.

“No, he’s nowhere near as annoying as you. I hardly ever scream at him,” you answered, deliberately misunderstanding.

“Ah ah ah,” he scolded. “Lying is a sin, Y/N. What would Father Jack say?”

“He’d probably say, ‘I’ve known Nick Tortano his whole life and it is probably not a lie that Andrew is nowhere near as annoying.’”

“But does Andrew make you come so hard you black out? Has he ever gone as many times in one night as me? Has he ever made you come in public? Are you as good together as we are?”

“Were. We _were_ good together. In bed. Yeah, you fucked me stupid. So stupid that I stayed with you years longer than I should have,” you lied.

“Does he rub your back when you have cramps?” he asked softly, taking you by surprise. He laid down next to you, reaching to stroke your hair. “Does he know that if he tickles you in just the right spot, you snort when you laugh? Does he know that you cry when animals die in movies but figure people were probably stupid and asking for it?”

“He’ll figure it out,” you whispered.

“Does he know that you want to run away and get married by an Elvis impersonator or something? Or are you having a big church wedding?”

“Nicky, please,” you whispered, trying not to cry. “You’re drunk. Go home.”

“I am home. You’re my home, Y/N.”

“Fuck, Nicky! The time for this was six years ago! I’ve moved on! You never took what I wanted into consideration! Why would I think I’m your home when you did everything you could to break us up?”

“I wasn’t trying to break us up. I was trying to make something of myself!”

“I loved you as you were! I wanted you just like you were! How was getting in trouble and going to prison gonna be good for me?” you raged.

“I saw you doin’ good in school and going to college and grad school and I was afraid you were gonna leave me behind! And you did. You left me.”

His eyes were dropping shut and you knew that there would be no moving him tonight. “Nick!” you tried anyway, but he slept hard normally and when he was drinking, not a chance. You sighed and looked at him. He was so perfectly handsome. Why couldn’t you stop loving this man-child?

At first you thought it was a habit, then nostalgia. After a while, though, you realized that you didn’t really have an explanation; your heart had chosen this jackass and left your head out of the loop.

You sat up and pulled Nick’s boots and jeans off, got his jacket off and rolled him under your blankets. He was always cold when he slept. You got up and curled up in your comfy chair where you read and fell asleep.

* * *

You were floating in your dream, then you felt the safest, best feeling of love wrap around you. You felt the arms of a mystery man wrapped around you, adoration enrobing you as you were settled into a bed made of clouds, his tenderness warming your soul.

“I love you, Y/N,” Nicky whispered as he tucked you back into your bed and stroked your hair and face. “I wish I had been smart enough to settle down with you when I had the chance. I’d do anything for another chance with you, but if you want this Andrew, I hope you’re happy. I always want you to be happy.”

You rubbed against his hand the way you always had in your sleep. _Christ,_ he thought. _Does she have to be the only one to make me feel?_

* * *

You woke up a few hours later, confused as hell. You thought you went to sleep in your chair and Nick was passed out in your bed, but you were in your bed and there wasn’t a sign of Nick.

Had you dreamed him? Had you dreamed his confession of loving you and wanting another chance?

Did you want him to have been there? Did you want him to love you still?

You shook your head and sat up, looking around for some sign that it hadn’t been a dream. Your window was shut and locked, your curtains and blinds in place, no sign of – wait. Something caught your eye under your bed skirt. An empty beer can.

Nick had been here. And apparently he wanted you to believe it was a dream.

Now, what the fuck were you supposed to do with this?

* * *

You had an idea. It was either valiant or stupid; you’d know for sure after you talked to Nicky’s boss, Salvatore Vitaglia.

Regardless of the intelligence of the plan, though, first you had to break up with Andrew. Nick was right, Andy would never mean as much to you as Nick did. You weren’t very proud of the part of you that already knew that and thought you could make it work.

Andrew deserved more than someone who was willing to make it work.

* * *

You left Andrew’s place, and it went surprisingly well. Now you wondered if he had someone he was running from, too. Either way, your conscience was clean now.

You took a deep breath and put your car in drive, then pulled into traffic. The brilliantly brave or laughably ludicrous portion of the program was about to begin.

* * *

“This way, sweetheart,” a very large gentleman directed you.

You were led into an office with a big wooden desk, behind which sat a smiling grandpa type.

“Hello, Mr. Vitaglia,” you said with a nervous smile.

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N. How’s the school librarian game treating you?” he asked politely.

“Oh, wow, you know what I do?” you asked in surprise.

“Of course, your Grandpa and I go way back. He’s very proud of his college graduate granddaughter,” he said with that grandfatherly smile. It reminded you of an alligator at the zoo, but you knew his word was good.

“Aw, I gotta go visit my Nonno!” you said with a smile.

“What can I do for you? I figure if you just wanted to say hello you’d stop me at church, right?”

“Yes, sir. Well, I was wondering…Would you mind firing Nick Tortano very much?” you said very quickly.

Sal went stone cold. “Did he do something to you?”

“No no no! I love him. I want him to move away with me.”

He looked at you shrewdly, grandfather mask dropped. “Does he know you’re here?”

You shook your head. “No, sir.”

“Do you even know if he wants to move away with you?” he scoffed.

“It’s the only way he can have me,” you said, chin tilted up in challenge.

Sal narrowed his eyes. “Kid’s got a future. Why should I fire him?”

“Because he loves me,” you said with certainty. “And I think he has just as much chance of being dead or back in jail if he stays in Boston.”

Sal shook his head. “I know what Nicky sees in you. If I was forty years younger I’d give him a run for his money.”

You grinned. “You might at that,” you flattered him.

Sal was silent for a moment. You could almost see the wheels turning, the balance weighing pros and cons. “Tell you what: you convince Nicky to move away with you and I’ll accept his resignation and wish you the best of luck. But if he wants to stay, you stop trying to get him to quit. Good?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir. I hope he comes to see you soon.”

He nodded. “You’re taking a big chance for him.”

“It’s a chance I should have taken six years ago,” you said earnestly. “Thank you, Mr. Vitaglia. You will never know how much this means to me.”

“Never let it be said that I stood in the way of young love,” he said in a benevolent Godfather voice.

* * *

Nick walked up the stairs to his apartment. Fuck. He needed to quit smoking so much, he was out of breath after two flights of stairs.

He was about as pathetic a fucker as he’d seen. As long as you were out there in the world, single, there was always a chance that maybe you’d get back together with him. Maybe he’d make a name for himself and you’d want him back.

But you were marrying Andrew. Who by all accounts was a great guy.

Better than him, anyway.

He unlocked his door and threw his keys on the scarred top of the kitchen table. His apartment fuckin’ sucked. His life fuckin’ sucked.

“Hi, Nicky,” you said from behind him on his sofa.

He spun around and pulled his gun before it registered that it was you, but you weren’t worried. He’d never hurt you.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N, I coulda killed you!” he growled, furious.

“C'mere,” you said, patting the sofa next to you.

Nicky gave you a trademark Nicky look that said, 'So help me God, woman.’ “How did you get in here?”

“Oh, I asked your landlord to let me in. Mr. Alfonsi was happy to. His grand-kids go to my school. Nice man.”

“What do you want?” he asked tiredly.

“I have a few questions, to start with.”

“Fine,” he said, leaning against the table and crossing his arms over his chest.

You smirked at him. That was how he was gonna play it. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” he said cautiously.

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me and you want a second chance?”

He tossed a smirk back to you. “So what if I did? You’re marryin’ Andrew last I heard.”

You held up your left hand that was now nude, wiggling your ring finger at him. “Guess your news isn’t as up-to-the-minute as you think.”

Nicky looked shocked. “Guess not.”

“So?”

“Nothin’s changed, Y/N.”

“You said you wanted a second chance to settle down with me. I’m offering you that chance.”

“It’s not that easy,” he said, pacing around a bit. “You don’t just put in notice with my boss.”

“You do.”

“Whatta ya mean, I do?”

“I mean, I talked to Mr. Vitaglia earlier today and he said that he wouldn’t fire you for me, but he’ll accept your resignation and wish you all the best so that we can move away and start over together.”

“Jesus, Y/N, you don’t just walk up to a man like Sal and ask for that! What the fuck were you thinking?”

You stood up and walked over to him since he wouldn’t come to you. “I was thinking that you climbed in my window, told me you loved me and wanted a second chance but that you wanted me to be happy. Why can’t it be both?”

Nick looked into your eyes, wanting to believe you. “It can’t be this easy.”

“I never said it would be easy. We have to move away from here. Non-negotiable.”

“Oh. Anything else, Your Highness?” he asked sarcastically.

“Yeah. I miss you and I love you. I made a mistake leaving you. But we can’t get a fresh start here. Our chance to be together is somewhere else. I’ve been looking and I think there are some places we could really get a good start.” You handed him a manila envelope and said, “Look these over, see what you think. Let me know if I should quit my job. Call me or climb in my bedroom window or something. If I don’t hear from you in a couple days, I’ll know how you felt six years ago.”

You turned to walk away, but Nick grabbed your arm and turned you around again, pushing the envelope back into your hands. “I don’t need to look through that.”

“Oh,” you said in a small voice, surprised at the change of heart he’d apparently experienced since the previous night. “Well. OK. Bye, I guess.”

He didn’t remove his hand from your arm. “I don’t need to look because I’d live in hell to be with you again. I’ll quit tomorrow.”

You threw your arms around his neck and he kissed you and oh, it was right. This was where you were meant to be, in this imperfect man’s arms.

The last six years had been hellish for both of you, but it had also proven that your love was true – and it had shown you both that it was worth the work to find the time and place to settle down.


	6. Husband For Sale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny Whitaker x Reader from Easy Virtue

John Whittaker reclined on his bed, naked but for a sheet thrown across his groin in case his Mother decided to barge into his room unannounced as she was wont to do. He supposed he did bring on a certain amount of it himself; after all, he knew she didn’t care for smoking in the house. Neither did she care for what some would call ‘privacy.’ As far as Veronica Whittaker was concerned, it was her house and everything and everyone in it were her property.

Johnny didn’t much care for being treated as property.

His ex-girlfriend Sarah had laughed in his face when he had complained to her of it.

“Welcome to my life, Johnny boy,” she had said, probably more kindly than he had deserved.

Veronica had referred to his breaking up with Sarah, bolting to Monaco and marrying a divorcee several years his senior a ‘Whittaker.’ He supposed it didn’t help matters that when said wife fled their marriage she had absconded with his Father.

Veronica had found it to be poetic justice when his Father had died with John's former wife astride him. She’d had not a moment’s grief over her sudden widowhood.

Johnny had felt a mixed emotion of grief and humiliation; he had no idea where one ended and the other began.

What he was certain of was that he had no desire whatsoever to find a new wife, let alone a stuffy heiress as his Mother demanded.

But, unless he wanted to wind up as so many other wealthy English families had done and have to sell the family home and – gasp – get a job, he would need to do so.

And soon.

He would almost prefer it if his Mother would simply list an ad in the press: Husband For Sale. Young, attractive, good teeth, landed. Bit of a tarnished reputation but nothing piles of money can’t fix.

Perhaps he should suggest it to Mother. It would almost be preferable to attending the gathering she had ordered him to this evening.

* * *

You were at a cocktail party, trying not to yawn. You were so ungodly bored with talk of fashion and gossip and the royal family. You would much prefer to be off with the men who were discussing the newest research in animal husbandry and farming machinery, but such was the lot of the daughter of a wealthy merchant who wanted his daughter to marry into landed gentry.

So your job was to look pretty, smile politely and flash jewelry. You were not to discuss your Father’s business, politics, farming, science or books. Acceptable topics were clothes, shoes, parties, shopping and the many trips you have taken, though you weren’t to share that you had spent much of those trips in museums and libraries.

You were absolutely not to mention your trip to Egypt where you had slapped a so-called Egyptologist for getting drunk and defiling a mummy. To top it all off, you had come home “looking brown as a heathen” and hadn’t been allowed out of doors for over a month until your tan faded into the proper shade of pale English rose.

So essentially, you were to be quiet and ornamental.

You would have greatly preferred it had your Father taken an ad saying Wanted: landed gentry with empty coffers to take my difficult, over-educated daughter off my hands. Not unattractive, assumed fertile, content to be locked away in dank manse provided there are plenty of books.

You supposed you were fortunate he was taking your wishes into consideration at all and allowing you to meet prospective suitors. He could just as easily have arranged a marriage.

You sighed again. The music was dull, almost somnolent and the air was close. You had been sipping wine but you didn’t partake often and the combination was making you drowsy. You decided to excuse yourself and stroll around. Perhaps some movement would awaken your senses, or at least you could find somewhere out of the way to yawn without creating the national incident your Father seemed to think it would cause.

You smiled and begged the pardon of the society matrons who had been discussing their roses, then turned away and – looked into the darkest eyes you had ever seen.

* * *

Johnny had been watching you as your eyes glazed over while talking to his Mother and a couple of her friends who had stood by her side when his Father’s latest scandal had become hot gossip. He had watched you valiantly attempt to keep the smile pasted to your face and was fairly certain he had seen you grit your teeth a few times against the entirely merited yawns trying to escape.

He was smirking while trying to maintain his own handsome smolder; or, as his Mother had called it, displaying the goods to their best advantage.

She really hadn’t forgiven him for marrying Larita.

When you turned and looked directly into his eyes, John was actually surprised at how pretty you were with a natural expression and not a sickly, bored smile. He decided to scoot over before you made it out of the introduction range of his Mother. Perhaps she had a use after all.

“Good evening, ladies,” he said, deftly blocking your route.

“John, how nice of you to join us,” his Mother said. She had been signaling him to come over for at least fifteen minutes, high time he did so. “You know Lady Marsden, Mrs. Pickering and this is Y/N Y/L/N.”

John greeted them in the order they were introduced, of course, because that was proper, but he paid particular attention to you as he dropped a genteel kiss to the back of your hand. “Charmed, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Lovely to make your acquaintance, Mr. Whittaker,” you said politely and correctly.

John smiled, the first actual, genuine smile of the evening. “You look like you could use another drink.”

“I was actually going to take a stroll in the garden,” you said quietly.

John bowed and said, “I would be grateful if you would allow me to accompany you.”

You smiled. “Of course, I’d be delighted for your company, Mr. Whittaker.”

* * *

“So,” you said politely after strolling along the well-lit pathways of their hosts’ gardens, “shall I assume that you are among the land-rich but money-poor gentry?”

“You may indeed, Miss Y/L/N,” he answered politely but with a humorous tone. “And shall I assume that you are new wealth looking to legitimize your family by offering an obscenely wealthy dowry to some rather unfortunate landowner such as myself?”

“You may, as well, Mr. Whittaker. My Father is consumed with elevating the reputation of our family name. Therefore, I am to find a poor but respectable gentleman, preferably a widower who has children to prove that he is able to give me children to make the next generation accepted.”

“Oh, then I shan’t do; I haven’t any children,” Johnny said, actually a bit saddened.

You looked up at him. “You actually seem disappointed!”

He shrugged. “My Mother approves of you. She’s been giving me the 'come hither, or else’ eyes for a bit, but I put it off.”

“Well, I am flattered to hear that while your Mummy had to optically badger you for an extended period of time before you could be bothered to introduce yourself, I should like to find someone with whom I am at least not repulsed, and whom I do not repulse. As I clearly must not pass that test for you, and the information that you had to be coerced to speak to me rather fails you for my requirements, I think I’ll just return inside. Good evening, Mr. Whittaker.” With that, you turned on your heel and walked away.

“Miss Y/L/N?” John said quickly. “You misunderstood me.”

You stopped. “How so?”

“I was not dawdling because you did not interest me. No, far from it, in fact. I was merely dawdling to annoy my Mother. But then you looked so tremendously bored, like you were trying to fight a yawn, so I came over to rescue you.”

It seemed the truth. You smiled warmly, embarrassed.“I apologize, then, and thank you for rescuing me from what would certainly have been the most mortifying event in my Father’s life.”

John laughed. “My mother wishes a yawn was the most embarrassing thing I’ve done.”

“Ohhhhh, do tell!” you said excitedly.

“But I’m supposed to be wooing you, not convincing you I’m an idiot,” he said with a laugh.

“Mr. Whittaker, you’re far too handsome for my taste. I would want a husband who will be faithful, not one who merely has to crook his finger to have a dozen options with whom to stray,” you scoffed.

“That is unfair!” he cried as he hopped up to sit on a garden wall. “You don’t know me at all, but you’ve decided I’m incapable of being a good, faithful husband based solely on my appearance!”

“Oh, indeed. Have I hurt your feeling?” you asked with a chuckle.

“My feeling? I only have the one, then?” he laughed.

“In my experience, handsome men have only one concern in life, and that is in adding notches to a bedpost.”

“Scandalous!” he exclaimed, fascinated. “And how did you come by this theory?”

“I was engaged last year to a supposed gentleman who wooed me as if he was madly in love with me. Came to find out later that it was his bank account that loved me,” you said sadly. “He merely tolerated me. In any case, I happened to overhear him with one of his lovers. She confronted him on our engagement and he told her that he wouldn’t marry an ugly little mouse like me if he didn’t have to, but the estate was in dire need of a cash infusion.

“So I broke it off,” you continued matter-of-factly, “very politely, gave him back his family heirloom ring, which I later found out to be almost the entirety of the family fortune.” You shrugged. “I know I am no great beauty, and that my only real attraction to a man is my Father’s money, but I still think I deserve someone who will respect me if he can’t love me.”

“You absolutely do,” John agreed. “And I would like a woman that I can have a conversation with and does not bore me to absolute tears.”

“We are dreamers, it seems, Mr. Whittaker,” you said wistfully.

“Indeed, Miss Y/L/N,” he agreed. “D'you mind if I smoke?”

“Not at all,” you allowed, “though I don’t like it indoors. Gets into fabric and makes everything smell so musty.”

“Perfectly reasonable,” he agreed, lighting up. “Do you?”

“I never have,” you said. “I usually have a book in my hand, so it would make turning pages difficult.”

“You do know how to live it up,” he quipped.

“Hence my fiance straying, I suppose,” you agreed.

“No,” he said adamantly. “There’s no excuse for that. He didn’t even wait for the wedding. That just makes him a bastard.”

“Well,” you said in surprise. “That’s unexpected.”

“What?” he said, leaning his head back and blowing his smoke skyward.

“A man taking the opposite side in a case of infidelity.”

“I was married. Did you know?”

“No, what happened?”

“She left me. Said I didn’t love her well enough. Actually left me for my Father, who left my Mother for her, though it wasn’t his first affair. She asked me to tango with her at a formal party and I refused. I didn’t want to make a scene, you see. So my Father stepped up and danced with her and then they ran away together, that same night.”

You covered his hand with yours. “I’m sorry, Mr. Whittaker. That must have been… devastating.”

He flipped his hand over and gave yours a quick squeeze. “Thank you. He died while he was with her.”

“With her with her?” you whispered with wide eyes.

“Yes,” he whispered back with a grin.

“Sorry,” you said looking down. “I shouldn’t have asked. I also tend to speak my mind too much. That gets me in trouble.”

“I quite like it. I think we shall become fast friends,” he said with a smile.

“Perhaps we could help each other?” you said excitedly.

“How?” he asked.

“I’ll help you find a rich bride and you help me find a faithful husband!”

“Intriguing,” he said, pondering. “I can certainly tell you what I know of people and introduce you, but what can you do for me?”

“I can tell you what I know and put in a good word for you! You’re handsome, yes, but that can be intimidating. As I said, many girls will assume you to be faithless based on your appearance.”

“As you do,” he pointed out.

“Well, yes. Sorry!” you said sheepishly. “Other than that you seem a swell fellow.”

“And honestly, I quite like you,” he said thoughtfully. “Yes, let’s give it a go. We won’t be any worse off, I suppose.”

“What if people see us together and assume we’re having an illicit liaison?” you asked worriedly.

“Hmm yes, that could damage your reputation,” he said. “Perhaps we should meet in secret?”

“How?”

“We’ll devise a signal. And my butler will hide messages for me if I ask. Is there anyone who could do so for you?”

“I think my maid would. Yes, this could work! Do we have a deal?” you asked, holding your hand out.

“We do,” he said, shaking your hand. “I think this will work out well.”

* * *

The two of you worked out your lines of communication and devised signals for social gatherings. After that you wrote letters sharing your social engagements so as to be sure to attend the same gatherings or secure invitations for the other when possible.

You were careful to meet clandestinely at social gatherings, sneaking off to an empty study, storage room or bedroom. You would trade information, compare notes and catch up if it had been a little while since you had seen each other.

And you became friends along the way. You found yourself laughing more and plotting less.

You were currently in a linen closet discussing the evening.

“Did you see Orrin Masters attempt to compliment me tonight?” you asked with a giggle.

“No, what did he say?” John asked, intrigued.

“He said that he was certain I wouldn’t need a wet nurse to provide nourishment when I had a child, all the while looking down my dress at my bosom,” you said with a laugh.

“He did that?” he said darkly.

“Yes. Apparently I have one feature that is desirable,” you said in a self-deprecating tone.

“You have many features that are very desirable, Y/N,” he said angrily. “I don’t like it when you speak ill of yourself like that.”

“John, we both know that I am no great beauty,” you said with a laugh. “It was never _my_ assets that were going to get me married. They’re only interested in my Father’s assets.”

“I think you’re quite lovely,” he said quietly.

“Pshaw,” you scoffed. “I am passable at best.”

Johnny shook his head. “The more I get to know you the more I think you’re selling yourself short by settling for a man who needs your money and wouldn’t stray because of it.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t you want love? Passion? _Heat?”_

You shrugged. “Of course I want those things. But let’s face it, I’m not going to get them. Why wish for things I can never have? I thought we had both come to the conclusion that we weren’t going to get those things?”

“Maybe that’s not enough for me now,” he said bitterly.

“I was rather under the impression that your grand love affair had left you sour on the emotion?” you asked gently. “That Larita had taken your ability to love with her when she left?”

He looked at you with those dark eyes of his, always so expressive. Lately there had been something in them that you didn’t recognize, though.

“I thought so, too,” he whispered. “But lately it isn’t her face I see of when I fall asleep at night. And another appears in my dreams, as well.”

You looked down and swallowed hard. “Well, how lovely for you, John,” you said quietly, trying to force some happiness into your tone for his sake. After all, he was your friend and you were happy for him if he had found a new love – right? “Is she rich? Can I help you convince her?”

“How would you do that?” he asked with a hint of a smile.

“Well, I would tell her how smart and funny you are. That you love music and are a wonderful dancer. That you do have a serious side even though you don’t show it often. You take your responsibilities seriously. You’re a wonderful friend,” you said with a smile that he returned, “and that I think if you ever truly fell in love, that she would be the luckiest girl in the world, for you can be affectionate, honest and supportive. I think you would make a wonderful husband and father if you ever fell in love, John.”

“Well, those are very kind words, Y/N,” he said sadly.

You tilted your head in question. “Then why do you seem sad?”

“Because I don’t think she’ll be convinced, even if you believe all that.”

“Why on Earth not?”

“She just doesn’t think that she’s the sort of girl I could ever love or would want to marry. And she is completely different from Larita, but honestly, I consider that to be a point in her favor.”

“She will be a tough act to follow, you must admit. Glamorous, beautiful, daring, American…and you love her,” you said longingly.

He looked up quickly at your tone of voice. “What was that?”

“What?” you whispered, worried that you were about to be found. “Did you hear something?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You think I still love her?”

“Don’t you?”

“Christ,” he whispered.

“John! I’ve never heard you curse before.”

“Darling, I promise, you will,” he said with a laugh,”because I am going to go and get very drunk.”

“Whatever is wrong with you?” you asked, confused.

“Nothing. We should get back, your Father will be looking for you. And God forbid my Mother find us, she’d have us before a vicar before the night was over.”

You smiled bitterly. “Yes, wouldn’t that just be tragic for you?” you whispered as you opened the closet door and peeked around, stepping out when you saw no one else.

You headed down the hallway to the loo as always, determined not to speak to John again that evening. It was hard enough trying to help him find a wife when you were madly in love with him. You didn’t need to listen to him wax poetic about the woman that had stolen his heart.

* * *

John stayed in the closet for a few minutes, giving you a head start back to the gathering. It was tempting to get caught together so that you were forced to marry him but he wanted you to fall in love with him. He just had so many checks in your negative column that he wasn’t sure he could ever convince you that he loved you.

He had never intended to help you to find another suitor. Oh, he supposed if you had fallen in love with someone else that he would have helped you, but you were too easy to get along with for him to help someone else catch you.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the way he had really fallen in love with you. He understood what Larita had meant when she had said he should have loved her better. You – he could not love you more, or better. What he had felt for her was a boy’s infatuation; what he felt for you was the enduring love a man felt for a partner, best friend, playmate…wife.

He wanted you, too. You thought you were plain; he saw beautiful eyes, lips that begged him to kiss and bite them, breasts that made him sweat and hips, legs and bum that he was dying to explore and a body he generally wanted to undress and sink into.

You were everything that Larita wasn’t, and yet she was what you thought he wanted.

He was in love with you, he had no idea how to convince you of it and you would never be with him if you didn’t believe it.

* * *

He returned to the drawing room where the guests gathered, eyes going to you as always, finding you watching him with a puzzled expression. _Welcome to my permanent condition since I met you, darling._

Then he noticed with whom you were speaking and where his eyes were; Orrin Masters seemed to be admiring your bosom again and John saw red.

He crossed the room to you, your eyes growing wider the closer he came. “Evening, Masters. I see you’ve made Y/N’s acquaintance.” He picked up your hand and kissed the back of it, then tucked it into the crook of his arm.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” you hissed with a smile, trying to pull your hand back without appearing to struggle.

John turned his body so that he was between you and Orrin and said, “Do you remember why my wife left me?”

You looked at him as if he had lost his sanity. “John, people are staring.”

“Y/N, do you remember why my wife left me?”

You huffed out a sigh and said, “You wouldn’t dance with her, didn’t want to make a scene. She said you didn’t love her well enough.”

“Dance with me, Y/N,” he said with a brilliant smile.

You looked surprised yet disbelieving. “There is no dance floor, John. This is not a dance occasion.”

He pulled you into his arms and whispered, “Dance with me.”

You looked into his eyes for a moment and saw that _something_ in his eyes that had been there for a while. Love? Desire?

“Don’t play with me, John, I beg you,” you whispered.

“I want _you_ , Y/N. Not your Father’s money, not my Mother’s approval: you. _Dance with me.”_

You bit your lip and put your hand on his shoulder, allowing him to twirl you around the room, laughing aloud as you dodged people who were scandalized by your behavior.

As he reached the center of the room, he stopped dancing and dropped to one knee, heart pounding as he realized he was very possibly making a public fool of himself, because he had no idea whatsoever if you would say yes.

“Y/N, this is absolutely terrifying because I don’t know what you’re going to say, and have chosen a very public forum for it,” he said and smiled when you smirked. “But, I am completely and irrevocably in love with you. You are my best friend and I love you more than I have ever loved anyone before. It would be my great honor if you would be my wife. Will you marry me?”

You opened and closed your mouth once before uttering a helpless, “Yes. I love you, John. Yes!”

He grinned and got to his feet, then twirled you into a dip and kissed you, right there in the middle of the room in front of your parents and everyone, with not a single care.

When you stood back upright, you were both grinning like loons, finally realizing that your audience was clapping. You laughed and hugged John, happy to share affection with him now that you knew he loved you in return.


	7. Like a Moth to a Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam Adams x Reader

You were in love with a lackwit. There could be no other explanation. How could such a learned man, one so very intelligent be at the same time so reckless and idiotic?

He had shown up yet again at your brother’s back door in the middle of the night, bleeding from several places though none appeared to be too serious. You had assisted your brother in patching up his various wounds on numerous occasions, usually feeding him and dealing with his teasing afterwards.

But tonight your brother wasn’t home.

You came down to the kitchen and saw Sam sitting at the table, blood running into his eye from a scalp wound and arms protecting his midsection.

“Kelly. Mr. Adams,” you said primly as you came into the room to evaluate the patient.

“Where’s Joseph?” Sam asked.

“I am well, thank you,” you answered him pertly, handing Kelly a cloth to hold over Sam’s scalp wound. “That one is not too bad, scalp wounds simply bleed profusely. Where is the rest of the blood on your shirt coming from?”

“Where is Joseph, Y/N?” Sam growled at you.

“Joseph is attending another patient. I am sorry that you will have to either accept my assistance or bleed on out the door,” you said, gesturing grandly toward the exit. “Honestly, Sam, you are such a lackwit.”

Kelly snickered at that and Sam threw him a dirty look.

“Every time I am treated to the sharp side of your tongue I am reminded why you are as yet unmarried,” Sam said with a sweet smile.

You scowled at Kelly to let him know he had better not laugh at that, then said, “Samuel, would you please give this old maid the thrill of a lifetime and lift your shirt so that I may assess the damages of this eve’s idiocy?” you answered him while batting your eyelashes. “I can have Kelly turn his back if you’re feeling missish?”

Sam gave you a stubborn look.

“Kelly, would you excuse us, please?” you asked politely.

“Yes, Mistress Warren,” he replied.

“Kelly!” Sam called after him.

“Now, Samuel, you have no crony to appear tough before, let me look at your injuries,” you said softly.

Sam pulled his shirt up and showed a long gash that ran from about halfway down the left side of his chest almost to his hip. “Sam you could have been killed,” you whispered. “Kelly, get him into the office. Martha, I will need boiling water and whiskey.”

“You can give me the whiskey now, darling” Sam tried to sweet-talk you.

“Kelly,” you advised.

“C'mon, Sam. We’ll wind up listening to her eventually. No need to bleed to death in the meantime.”

You gathered your supplies and began cleaning the debris and bits of cloth from the wound, Sam keeping a death grip on his trousers so he didn’t flash you. As you began to stitch him up, you forced him to drink water and nettle tea before you would allow him to hit the whiskey.

You wound up putting close to thirty stitches in Sam’s side and another eight on his scalp. Then you washed the blood and dirt from around the wound before wrapping his torso in clean bandages and putting him to bed up in the guest room.

You sent Kelly home and then heated up the stew you had made for dinner and took it up to Sam on a tray with a glass of milk, more tea and water.

You had him propped up in bed and set the tray across his lap. “Do you need help eating, Sam?”

He tilted his head and looked at you. “Why are you not yelling at me to be more careful?”

You hummed a response as you puttered around the room, adding another blanket to his bed and putting a bell on his nightstand.

“Y/N,” he said, gently grabbing your wrist as you moved within range. “Why are you not lecturing me?”

“Why on Earth would that matter to you?”

“I find it comforting.”

You huffed a sigh. “I give up.”

“You’re giving up on me?” he whispered.

“As you so very kindly pointed out, I do not become a year younger when the anniversary of my birth arrives. I must marry eventually and I quite like children. I would like to have six or so. As I am an old maid, I shall have to sweeten the pot of my advanced years with an exceptional dowry to catch a husband at this point, and heaven forfend I wait any longer.

“And so, yes, I will have to give up on the lackwit with whom I am in love and marry someone not to my taste but who can give me children as they will be my only succor in a lonely, loveless marriage.

“More stew?” you asked completely casually.

“Y/N,” Sam said, trying to sit up straighter.

“Yes? Would you like me to feed you?”

“No. I would like to apologize for lashing out at you earlier. I was in pain and it was uncalled for. You have ever been kind to me and I have not been as kind to you as I could have been.”

“My goodness,” you said in false surprise. “It is almost like that night that you kissed me and told me that you knew you didn’t deserve a woman like me, yet still you were drawn to my beauty and heart like a moth to a flame. Am I a flame that you feel will consume you or a shrewish old maid put on this Earth to bedevil you with my nagging, Mr. Adams?”

“You know I was drunk when I said that,” he huffed. “It was meant to be romantic.”

“I do not need romance from a man who tries to get himself killed on a regular basis,” you said quietly. “I have decided to go and stay with my Mother’s cousin in Philadelphia. Joseph agrees that it will be best.”

“What?” Sam said loudly, in disbelief.

You stood up straight and proud. “As you so kindly pointed out, I am neither married nor getting any younger. Perhaps in Philadelphia I will be able to get over a man who cannot decide whether he wants to be Apollo, Eros or Bacchus.” With that you turned and left his room, calling over your shoulder without looking back, “Martha will come and collect your tray soon.”

* * *

Sam started to get out of the bed to follow you but changed his mind when blinding pain ripped through his side, though that only served to pause his movement. What changed his mind was the knowledge that you were right; he wasn’t even sure he would survive this conflict ahead.

The maid came to take his tray a while later and then he simply stared at the ceiling until Joseph arrived.

“Come in, Joseph,” he called when a quiet knock sounded.

“Y/N tells me you’re hurt again,” he said, expecting his usually jocular friend to laugh off his injury and ask for a mug of ale.

“Yes” Sam said quietly.

“Let me have a look,” he said.

Sam simply showed him the stitches on his scalp, answered his questions about headaches and nausea, lifted his borrowed nightshirt so he could inspect your stitches and proclaim the job as good as he could have done.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam asked.

“She asked me not to tell you,” Joseph answered, knowing exactly what he meant. “I believe she rather hoped you would follow through on the declarations you’ve made time and again.”

“She told you? And you haven’t called me out?” Sam asked in surprise.

Joseph shrugged. “Tell me how killing the man my sister loves would make anything better?”

“She shouldn’t,” Sam whispered harshly.

“Well, as you can see, she has a differing opinion.”

“But she’s leaving,” Sam said, grief seeping into his voice. “That’s good. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Glad you think so, because it seems as though you have pushed her away one time too many.”

* * *

You had been in Philadelphia with your cousin Susannah and her husband Thomas for almost a year, and if you thought that distance would make your heart grow less devoted to Sam, you had found that to be decidedly untrue. In fact, you only seemed to yearn for him more. The Roman poet Sextus wrote true when he said,

_“Always toward absent lovers_

_love’s tide stronger flows.”_

You also missed your brother, but at this point, it would be unsafe for you to be in Boston. Regardless of whether you regretted leaving Sam, you no longer had a choice in the matter.

Susannah had been a particular favorite of yours when you spent summers together as children and she was determined to find a husband for you. She knew of your feelings for Sam, but she thought that any man who would leave a beautiful woman as you on the shelf to become a spinster was absolutely not deserving of the tender feelings you still carried for him.

And so there had been an array of eligible bachelors paraded before you, and with each perfectly nice gentleman you found fault. This one was too tall. This one too short. Too thin. Too fat. Too light. Doesn’t smile enough. Smiles too much. Doesn’t move his hands gracefully. Foppish. Rough. Too many children. Doesn’t like children.

Honestly, each and every one of the rejected suitors could be summed up so: he was not Sam.

* * *

Your cousin took great pride in the gardens behind their mansion. They were exquisite, set with flowers that bloomed at different times so that there would never lack color. There were beautifully tended box shrubs and shade trees with benches and fountains. It was truly a peaceful haven away from the suitors and parties and soirees.

You spent as much time as possible there, including a good portion of this Sunday. Though you had to purchase new gowns for social occasions, your day dresses from Boston were your preference for the gardens. The new clothes exposed far more of your cleavage than party dresses in Boston. You had endured quite a few jabs about being priggish and puritanical when you first arrived.

The search for a husband was becoming more than tedious; it was gut-wrenching. How could you be expected to marry one of these tame, colorless men who had never held a principle he would die for when there was a man like Samuel Adams in the world? Do they not know that he is how all men should be: brave, intelligent, cunning, passionate. These men were mere caricatures.

You wanted your love back. Well. Not precisely back since you never had any sort of an understanding. You wanted Sam.

Perhaps Philadelphia was not far enough away from Boston after all. How far would you have to go to quell the riot of hope that you felt for him?

This was of course, not a new topic of thought on your morning strolls. For all intents and purposes, the morning strolls had become: Part 1) Compare and Contrast the gentlemen with whom you had become acquainted, 2) Find one that could perhaps make a decent husband and father, 3) Compare him to Sam and find him so very wanting, and finally, 4) Think about Sam and how much you you missed him; wonder if he has taken up with anyone since you left. Think of how your name would sound with the surname Adams. Ponder what names you would give your children. Call yourself a dozen different kinds of fool for loving him, 5) Lunch.

You heard footsteps in the gravel behind you. You had your parasol to block the sun and had no desire to listen to the qualities of whatever man Susannah planned to walk past you as if he were a stud to service you.

“Allow me to have my morning strolls before you begin badgering me about choosing a husband, Susannah. Even God rested on the seventh day,” you snarked.

“This suitor is different, Y/N,” Sam said quietly.

You stopped dead but did not turn around. “Oh is he?” you asked casually.

“He is, indeed. I have it under good authority that he is profoundly lacking in wit,” he began, stepping a bit closer.

“Do go on,” you whispered.

“He says the wrong thing. Always.”

“An admirable quality for a lackwit,” you agreed. “Is he a clumsy sort? Has he been known to trip over his own big mouth and fall down and get hurt?”

“That has happened once or twice.”

“Does he fancy himself a combination of the gods of war, love and drunkenness?”

“There perhaps has been a change along those lines.”

You turned to face him, surprise showing when you took in his new suit, clean white shirt, cravat starched and tied properly, stockings white as snow and buckles on his shoes shining brightly.

“Well, if you should happen to come across Sam Adams, tell him that I still love him and cannot find a way to get

over him, no matter how many bachelors and widowers Susannah forces me to meet.”

“I am here for the Continental Congress,” he said proudly. “I have a purpose; I am a leader.”

You walked over to him, nodding. “I know, Sam. I am so proud to be your acquaintance.”

He took your hand and swallowed hard. “Are we not even friends, Y/N?” he whispered.

“I do not know, Sam. Do you think of me as your friend?”

“No, I suppose I don’t at that,” Sam said with a small smile.

“Then how do you think of me?” you asked, irritated.

“There was a time I thought of you only as Joseph’s sister and not to be touched. Then I came to like you for your own special qualities: wit, charm, kindness, absolute inability to tolerate my nonsense.

“Then I saw you as a beautiful woman instead of simply my friend’s sister. And you know that I value my friendship with Joseph greatly, yes?”

“I do.”

“So when I started seeing you that way, I told myself that I neither deserved you nor wanted to damage my friendship with Joseph.”

“Then perhaps you should have told me that you could never be with me rather than you were drawn to me,” you said, pulling your hand from his. “Why are you even here? To refresh my memory so that finding a husband will be even harder? To give me a new image to hold in my heart now that you seem to have grown up and remembered how to tie a cravat?”

“No. No! By the saints, Y/N, I don’t want you to find a husband!” he said in frustration.

“You want me to die a spinster? Why would you be so cruel?” you asked angrily.

Sam growled in frustration and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you to his chest and kissing you.

He pulled away and caressed your cheek gently, saying, “Will you close your mouth long enough for me to ask you to marry me?”

Your eyebrows shot up. “That is by far the least romantic proposal in the history of marriage proposals, and I include among those Hades and Persophone!”

Sam grinned at you. He dropped to one knee before, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. “Y/N, I love you. You have amazed me with your continued devotion, and that has given me the strength to ask myself if I could ever be a man who deserved your regard. If I have not destroyed your love for my with my foolishness, it would bring me everlasting joy and happiness if you would be my wife.

“Y/N, will you do me the honor of marrying me? I could not bear to be with another.”

You looked down at him for a moment, silent. Sam was beginning to get very nervous.

He looked down and said, “I understand if I have destroyed your care for me. If you do not wish to give me your answer today, at least allow me to court you. I will prove to you that my love for you is true and forever.”

Sam looked up into your eyes and found you studying him intently. “What is it, my love?” he asked quietly.

You pulled him to his feet and touched his ribs where you last stitched him together. You looked up into his eyes. “You will not be foolish and leave me a widow?” you asked, heart in your eyes. “I could not bear to have you, only to lose you again.”

Sam pulled you close and rested his cheek on your head, closing his eyes and breathing in your perfume while he allowed himself to have hope for the future. “My love, if I know that you await me, I believe it will give me the desire to make it home each day.”

You wrapped your arms around him and held onto him as tightly as possible. “Samuel Adams, I will be proud to be your wife, as I ever would have been.” You leaned back in his arms and looked up at him intently. “Behind the combed hair and properly tied cravat, I know you are the same man I fell in love with years ago. You have always deserved my regard. I have always respected you, even when I could not decide whether to hit you over the head or kiss you.”

Sam chuckled. “I have a feeling you will ask yourself this question again if you accept me.”

“I suspect I will,” you said drily, resting your head against his chest.

Sam cleared his throat and you looked up at him, eyebrow cocked. “Hmm?”

“There is the small matter of whether you will accept my proposal, darling.”

“Oh, the one who made me wait for years demands his answer in a timely fashion, hmm?” you said in a saucy voice.

“I do have a backup plan, since I know how much you love me but also like to torture me,” he bragged with a smirk.

“Oh, indeed?” you said pertly. “And what is that?”

Sam leaned down to put his mouth by your ear, pulling you a lot closer than was decent for an unmarried couple. “I thought that I would seduce you,” he whispered.

You gasped, the feeling of being held so close combined with his breath hot against your ear and neck making you moan a little.

“Throw you over my shoulder and carry you off behind those bushes and have my way with you,” he rumbled, nibbling your ear a bit.

You shivered and tipped your head back to look up at him. “Your wicked way?” you asked with a smile.

“Extremely wicked,” he said with an answering grin.

“Is there no way I can have both? Or shall I pretend that I do not wish to marry you with every breath I take so that you will compromise my virtue to make me yours?” you asked with an impish grin.

Sam threw his head back and laughed, then kissed you happily. “I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I am so very lacking in wits that it took me so long to admit it.”

You caressed his bearded cheek, glad that he had not gone so far as to shave it when he cleaned up his image. “I love you so much, Sam. I believe I must have a particular fondness for lackwits. I will marry you, and I hope we have a dozen children equally lacking in wits, for I think you are perfect, Samuel Adams.”

Sam picked you up and hugged you. “With my lack of wits and your poor judgment, one of our children will be certain to be a great leader of men.”

“Be quiet and kiss me, lackwit,” you said gently.

“With pleasure,” he growled as he kissed you hungrily, pouring years of desire into the kiss.

You were a bit dazed when Sam kissed your nose and your forehead. “Like a moth to a flame, my love.” He tipped his forehead against yours.

“Well, I’m certainly feeling the warmth,” you said with a saucy wink. “We had better be wed soon. I think there’ll be a wedding night before long either way.”

Sam inhaled quickly, shuddering with need. “Never has a man been more fortunate that a woman saw through him.”

“Doesn’t hurt that I saw you unclothed several times, either,” you said drily.

Sam laughed in surprise again. He had a feeling that his life would be filled with both laughter and surprise, and he could not have been more grateful.


	8. Opposites Attract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Tortano x Reader

You were at a bakery to order a cake for your Mother’s birthday and it was taking forever. There was a line – there always was, it was the best bakery in the neighborhood, and if you didn’t get there early you didn’t get doughnuts.

The line was moving slowly; you hadn’t hit the sweet spot of rush hour coffee lovers, you had arrived during OPT: the dreaded Old People Time.

And you were impatient. You weren’t proud of it. You really weren’t. But Oh my God, did they have to tell people who didn’t know them and absolutely didn’t care all about their grandkids and their soccer or t-ball or whatever the hell?

“Oh my God, nobody cares,” you muttered under your breath.

You gasped when you heard a snicker behind you. You bit your lip and looked over your shoulder, then adjusted your vision up and into the much taller-than-yours face of Nick Tortano.

You immediately looked down. “Sorry,” you whispered.

He leaned forward and whispered, “They annoy me, too.”

“I know I’m awful for it, but I hate waiting so much.”

“I usually do, but I was taking the opportunity to look down your top,” he said casually.

You gasped and looked down to see that your top did, in fact, gape a little when you crossed your arms, as you had been while tapping your toe impatiently. “Nick Tortano, you keep your eyes out of my cleavage!” you hissed, then realized you used his name. _Way to go, Y/N. Why don’t you just tell him you used to write your name as Mrs. Tortano on your notebooks while you’re at it._

“I was wondering if you’d remember me. Long time no see,” he said with a grin.

“You…you know who I am?” you asked in astonishment.

He chuckled. “Course I do. We grew up like two blocks apart. I used to live for you jogging by my house. Sports bras didn’t really…support…as well back then.”

You blinked rapidly at him. “So…ah…you’ve had a long-term relationship with ogling my boobs?”

He nodded unashamedly, grinning. “I have. Your legs and ass, too. Good times.”

You turned your back on him in shock. Then turned back and looked at him again. He winked. You turned around again hastily, then back. “Are you looking at my butt?” you whispered.

He nodded. “Oh yeah. Looks better than in high school.”

You decided two could play that game and looked him up and down, then did a twirl thing with your finger to get him to spin around. “You look better than in high school, too. Those jeans are framing a masterpiece, Tortano.”

Nicky burst out laughing. “Damn, sweetheart, I gotta say, I like this version of you.”

You shrugged. “I haven’t changed. You just never talked to me before.”

“Have dinner with me so I can find out what I’ve been missing,” he said with a smile that made your stomach flip.

“Next!”

You turned and saw that the line had moved while you’d been distracted by Nick and it was your turn. You walked up to the counter to order the cake, certain that Nick must have been kidding. You go out with Nicky Tortano? Nah. Couldn’t be for real. He was yanking your chain.

You finished your order, paid and then turned to see Nick looking at you expectantly.

“Next.”

“It was good to see you,” you said as you looked at your shoes. Like you had all through high school when you had passed him in the hallway.

“You’re not even gonna answer me?” he said in surprise.

You looked up. “You were serious?”

“Next!” the counter attendant snapped.

Nick stepped out of line. “Yeah, I was serious. I wanna take you to dinner.”

“Why?” you asked, confounded. “We have nothing in common, Nicky!”

He shrugged. “Opposites attract?”

* * *

You went to a cafe and had breakfast right then when you both realized you had nowhere to be. You had pancakes and hash browns and he had a massive omelette, bacon and waffles.

“Jesus, Nicky, you eat like a linebacker. How do you keep your figure?” you asked with a saucy wink.

“You like my figure? I could probably arrange for you to see more of it. Y'know, just to see if you like all of it.”

You gave him a half-smile. “Slow down, slugger.”

“What? We knew each other since we were what, five years old?”

“Despite my admiration for your figure –”

“And mine for yours,” he added.

“Our mutual admiration, then…I don’t think I’ll be getting better acquainted with the parts covered by your clothes any time soon,” you said sarcastically.

“You either go full sarcasm or look at your feet. Which one is you?” he asked quietly, head tipped to the side as if to study you.

You smiled a little. “I dunno. Probably somewhere in the middle.” You looked up at him. “You go full pervert or introspective, thoughtful guy. Which one is you?”

“Come out to dinner with me and find out,” he said with a grin.

You leaned back and looked him over. “We don’t match,” you said, gesturing back and forth between you. “And I’m not gonna fall into bed with you. So what’s your end game?”

“Does there have to be an end game? Can’t I just want to have dinner with an old friend?” he said with a smoldering smile.

“Hmmm. If we never talked before are we really old friends? And if you’re using that smile that probably gets you laid about I’m guessing 93% of the time, is it really just dinner?” you asked speculatively.

“Wow. 93%. How much sex do you think I have?” he said with a laugh.

“How often do you use that smile?” you asked with a giggle.

“Just my luck you’re in the 7%,” he said faux-sadly, full puppy eyes and pout in play.

You laughed. “Somehow I think you’ll get over it,” you replied, shaking your head at his display.

He smiled at your laughter. “How about this: have dinner with me so I can find out what I missed? No bullshit from me and no shyness from you.”

“Now that is a persuasive argument,” you said. “OK. When?”

“Tonight?” he asked with a grin.

“I actually have no plans. Hard to believe you don’t, though? I mean it’s Friday,” you said skeptically.

“I’m supposed to hang out with a buddy of mine, but he won’t mind.”

“Can I just reiterate that I am not falling into bed with you and getting my heart broken?” you said sternly.

“Noted. Can I walk you home?” he asked.

“I have some other errands to run, actually. I took the day off to get some shit done.”

“Want some company?” he asked.

* * *

You wound up spending the day together and just grabbing pizza for dinner.

“This doesn’t count as a first date,” Nick said.

“I didn’t know it was a date. I thought it was just catching up,” you said with a smirk.

“You knew it was a date, Y/N,” he said. “Tell ya what: how about neither one of us play games here?”

“You have a deal, Mr. Tortano,” you said, reaching across the table to shake his hand.

* * *

After that, you and Nicky spent almost all of your free time together. He shared his worries with you, both about his family and The Family. You expressed your concern with him getting more involved with Mr. Vitaglia.

That concern came to a head a few of weeks after you started seeing each other.

Nick was walking you to your door, hoping that you would invite him in. He had kissed you a few times and it had been amazing for both of you and he wanted to take the next step.

You had a little house with a porch swing. It was tiny, a two bedroom cottage with a postage stamp sized yard, but it was yours – well, yours and the bank’s. Still. You were proud.

Instead of unlocking the door and going inside, you went over to the porch swing and sat down, patting the seat next to you.

Nick came over and sat down, getting a wary vibe from you. “What’s up?” he asked hesitantly.

“I think maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore,” you said quietly, not meeting his eyes.

Nick was taken aback. “Ah, I kinda got the feeling you liked me. We were gettin’ along real well,” he replied.

“We are. I think you’re great, Nicky. There’s so much more to you than I ever – but it’s not gonna go anywhere but the bedroom. And I need more than that,” you said quietly, voice a little rough.

Nick inhaled slowly, your words cutting him deeper than he could believe. “Can I ask why?”

“We’re so different, Nicky!” you said in frustration. “I don’t wanna fall in love with you and get crushed.”

“What about me? Do I get a say in this?”

“Oh, c'mon! Like I’m who you’re gonna end up with? You probably haven’t even slowed down whoring around as it is.”

“Whoa! For one thing, Miss Perfect,” he started angrily, “you don’t get a say in my sex life til we agree on that.”

“Right, “ you scoffed. “So I guess it wouldn’t bother if I told you I got laid last night?”

Nick jumped up and snarled, “Who?”

You nodded. “Right. Got it now, Mr. Perfect. I don’t get a say in your sex life. Understood.”

Nick got ahold of his temper and took a deep breath. “That wasn’t fair to ambush me, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t test you like that.”

“Well, I suppose if we were going to be in a relationship that would be a good boundary.”

“Why are you doing this? I know you like me. I like you, a lot. We get along great. Yeah, we’re different people, but that’s good. I’m not asking you to change for me,” he said, pacing back and forth on the small porch.

“I am asking you to change for me. Or, I guess if we were to stay together, I would ask you to change for me,” you clarified.

“What, I don’t make enough money?” he spat.

“What? No! What the hell, Nicky!”

“Then what?” he growled.

“Sal! You’re gonna get killed if you keep up with him,” you cried. “And I don’t want the hands on my body covered in blood, either.”

“You want me to quit working for Sal?” he asked in surprise.

“Yeah, and I know you’re committed to him. But he’s bad news for you, Nicky.”

“Sal takes care of his own, Y/N,” he said. “I can go places with him.”

“Yeah, places like Shirley?” you said snidely, the immediately regretted it when you saw him flinch. “I’m sorry, Nicky, that was shitty. Look, it’s not about money or anything like that. I’m just afraid for you and I’m selfish. If I fall in love, I want to have a reasonable expectation that he’s gonna come home every night, not get killed or go to prison. I don’t wanna be second and I don’t wanna lose the man I love.”

Nick looked at you for a minute and then his shoulders sagged and he came back to sit next to you on the swing. You gently pushed the swing together and after a little while you leaned your head against his shoulder. A few seconds later, Nick leaned his cheek against your head and held your hand.

* * *

It had been a few weeks since you had stopped seeing Nick. You had thought you got out early enough that you wouldn’t get your heart broken, but it was too late. Maybe it was the crush effect, finally going out with someone you had liked since you were old enough to notice boys, but you fell a lot harder for him than you thought was possible in just a couple weeks.

Nick hadn’t made any attempt to get in touch with you, which told you that you made the right decision. You were simply too different. You could have dealt with that, but not the dangerous business he was up to his ears in.

The day of your Mother’s birthday party rolled around and you had to go back to the bakery to pick up her cake. It was surprisingly difficult. You hadn’t gone in there, not even for coffee or a doughnut, since you had broken things off with Nicky.

You walked in and looked around, heart aching at the memory of flirting with Nick. You hoped he was OK. You wished you hadn’t been so selfish and cowardly and had tried to make something with him. You couldn’t help but think that you had missed out on something wonderful.

* * *

You were walking to your car carrying the cake. It was a huge cake and it was heavy and you were trying to figure out the best way to open the trunk to get it in flat.

“Need some help?”

You gasped, spinning around and almost dropping the cake. “Nicky!”

“Here, let me take that,” he said quietly, holding the cake while you unlocked the trunk and moved your gym bag over to clear a spot. You held out your hands for the cake and he simply said, “I got it,” and set it into the spot you had opened.

You closed the trunk and then turned to face him. Had you just been wishing you could see him again? _Next time wish you could be prepared to see him beforehand, Y/N._

“Hi,” you said awkwardly, looking at your shoes.

“Thought we were past looking at shoes,” he said quietly.

You looked up and nodded. “Yeah. How you been?”

He smiled mirthlessly. “Not that great, to tell ya the truth. Had a real bad break-up.”

“Oh. I’m – ah, sorry to hear that,” you said. _Wow, didn’t take him long to get back in the saddle._

“Thanks,” he said. “How you been? Seein’ anyone?”

“What? No,” you said like he was an idiot. _But then he didn’t know that you were an idiot and fell in love with him, did he?_

“Yeah, me either,” he said.

“Well, yeah, you said you had a bad break-up.”

“Yeah. You wanna grab some lunch or somethin’?” he asked shakily.

“Ah that’s probably not a great idea,” you said. _Please don’t cry in front of him, you idiot loser!_

“Oh, OK,” he said.

“I should go. Party. Stuff,” you stammered. “For my Mom.”

“Yeah, yeah. The cake.”

You tried to smile and wound up having tears spill over. “The cake.” You wiped your cheeks quickly.

“I miss you.”

“Don’t, Nicky,” you whispered.

“I don't work for Sal anymore,” he whispered.

You looked up quickly. “What?”

He nodded. “I told him I wanted out. My Uncle Bruno, Mom’s brother, he got me in learning electrical work. If I do good, they’ll help me get an apprenticeship.”

“That’s great. I’m so happy for you,” you said. “Really. It’s great.”

“Yeah. My Dad’s even talkin’ to me again. Just one thing missin’.”

“What’s that?” you whispered.

“You. Need you to make it worth it, babe,” he said quietly, reaching over to take your hand.

You stepped into his arms and kissed him for all you were worth. “Oh, Nicky, I missed you so much,” you said against his lips, then jumped back and looked up at him. “Wait a minute. You said you had a bad break-up!”

Nick gave you a wink. “Yeah, that was with you. But I really liked the fire in your eyes when you thought I had already moved on.”

“Ugh, you’re such a jerk, Nicky. Can’t imagine why I’m so crazy about you,” you said as you moved back into his arms.

His chest rumbled with a chuckle. “I’m a jerk and you’re an angel. Opposites attract.”

“You busy tonight?” you asked him hesitantly.

“Nope. Got somethin’ in mind?”

“Wanna be my plus one at my Mom’s birthday party?”

“Yeah?” he asked happily.

“Yeah, I want you to meet my family,” you said softly. “They’re gonna want to get to know someone who means so much to me.”

Nicky pulled you close and hugged you, eyes closed and enjoying the feeling of you back in his arms where you belonged.

* * *

Whenever you and Nick went anywhere together, you got looks, at least in the neighborhood where you had both grown up. You hadn’t been childhood sweethearts or even known each other all that well, so you didn’t have the aid of time helping people to get used to seeing you together.

Nick had been to prison up at Shirley. You were a computer tech at a pharmaceutical company. He liked steak while you were a vegetarian. You liked video games, he’d rather watch a movie. You were a homebody, he liked to go out.

But, it just worked. You were the most opposite of opposites, but like they say, opposites attract.


End file.
